Heaven has different signs to me
by OnlyBecauseYouReact
Summary: McPriceley. A slight alteration of what occurs between Kevin and Connor. Altered because I can't have people spontaneously break out into song. Yes, it shall become smut filled later. Title is a poem by Emily Dickinson. You should totally read it.
1. Chapter 1

Kevin Price was perfect. His mother and father, despite having four other children were never ashamed when declaring Kevin was their favorite. He knew The Book of Mormon and all it's scripture forward and backward by the time he was fifteen, and by seventeen he was the unofficial head of their group of elders. His hair was always the quintessence of perfection, as every Mormon boy's should be. He never swore, never lied, and didn't even know what coffee smelled like. When it came to girls Kevin was sure to voice his opinion on who he found more "attractive," even if it was to please his friends and parents. Kevin was always the first to volunteer for any kind of work, be it physical or charitable. He worked at the local shelter, and with his vocal skills he managed to get all but three puppies adopted. Whenever an elderly neighbor was in need of assistance Kevin was always the one there, even if it was something as menial as fixing a door or moving a dresser. For the sake of Heavenly Father he was nearly a pint away from being a gallon club member at the age of nineteen.

Kevin knew exactly what everyone thought about him and he ate it up, but being the Mormon poster boy was not all it was cracked up to be. He had to juggle school, family life, mission center studies, church duties, and charity work. Not to mention his youngest brother was definitely a pain in the you know what nearly 24/7. Sometimes Kevin just wanted to yell. Loudly at him, and retreat to his room to think or read The Book, but that would never happen. Not when everyone had such high expectations of such a perfect boy. All of this with the brightest countenance he could muster, even if by the time he got home all he really wanted to do was pass out into sweet oblivion on his king sized bed.

Nonetheless Kevin knew he was special, the whole town practically threw that fact into his face everyday. He also knew that he couldn't really prove his true worth to Heavenly Father until he went on his mission, which just so happened to be tomorrow. Well not really tomorrow, only the assignment of companions and countries was tomorrow. Still it was enough to keep him up significantly later than eight, mulling over all the possibilities. He made sure to pray every night to be sent to what Kevin deemed the best place in all of existence. Orlando. He didn't care if it was childish that a nineteen year old man loved Disney and Seaworld. That was the place were he felt happiest. Every time he smiled in Orlando all those years ago it was genuine. He knew the only way Heavenly Father would listen to his prayers was if he never let anyone down; if he was the best.

Kevin smiled at that last thought. He was the best. Finally able to rest he quickly utters one more prayer, a silent thank you sent with it as well.

* * *

Arnold Cunningham was a mistake. His parents made sure to let him know this the minute he could understand what a bastard child was, although he had never said the word again upon finding out it was in deed a swear. They were born again Mormons, but Arnold was thrust into the faith and took to it about as naturally as a snake to snow. Arnold was not a bad person, he was however different than the rest of the children in Salt Lake City.

Apparently knowledge of Star Wars and Lord of the Rings was not what made you cool, rather being able to recite scripture verbatim was "what was hot," (according to the "So You're A Mormon" introduction video from the 80s). Still Arnold tried; he tried for his dad and he tried for the sake of having friends, but his efforts were never enough. He was often the victim of childish mischief, although how rascally can a bunch of Mormon boys be? Apparently hiding his books and stealing his R2D2 action figure, Arnold doubted they even knew what that was, was not considered cruelty in their faith. Not to mention their creative insults, seeing as swearing was a no-no. Arnold knew he was a few extra pounds, he did not need that information relayed back to him every time he tried to eat lunch (which ended up with him hiding in the school's auditorium, reading the latest edition of Batman or pretending he was some sort of warrior. Arnold grew up with books and television shows for company.

The person he prayed most for as a companion was what Arnold imagined the perfect son to be, after all his father asked time and time again, "Why can't you be more like that Price boy?" Arnold knew that no matter how hard he tried there was no way he was ever even going to resemble the excellence that was Kevin Price, but if he was stuck with him for 2 years then maybe some of that special something would rub off on him. He saw him in school. A+ student, athletic, fit, and social to a ridiculous degree. He was always smiling, and always surrounded by people. The girls loved him, and as much as Arnold tried to demystify the opposite gender it always ended up with the girl threatening to file a sexual harassment lawsuit. Whatever that meant.

Arnold had no trouble sleeping the night before assignments, he knew Heavenly Father would listen to him, even if it was just this one time.

* * *

Kevin wasn't nervous, why should he be? He was simply combing his hair for the fifth time and fiddling with his name tag for no reason. It just wouldn't stay straight is all, not nervous. Sure he hadn't eaten, but that was pure excitement right there. He was confident, and was that a speck of lint on his shirt? It was nearly time, in fact he better get going. Right after he retied his tie.

Arnold was sleeping when he heard his father shout and bang on his door. Through the haze he made out the words "late, get up," and "disappointment." Arnold was too tired to feel anything other than obligation as he rushed out the door, shirt untucked and hair a nest of dark twigs, curling loosely.

* * *

Kevin's hands are wringing and his feet refuse to be still. He was next.

Arnold stood watching the others smile at their companions. He couldn't wait to see who would smile at him like that.

"Elder Price!" When the mission leader called for him Kevin all but flew from his post. He couldn't even speak, only nod. "Your mission companion is Elder Cunningham," Elder Price froze. He looked to the ecstatic boy. Unruly hair, sloppy presentation, and a lack of volume control. Everyone knew he was the worst Mormon in the city. Maybe even in the history of the church was Kevin's suspicion and know he was to be paired off with him. For two years. Kevin's right eye twitched as Elder Cunningham took his place next to him.

"I prayed every night to Heavenly Father to be assigned you," Kevin flinched at the loudness of the words, or was it the irony? He couldn't be sure.

"And your mission will be in," Kevin held his breath. Surely if Elder Cunningham got his prayers granted then Heavenly Father would have no problem providing him with the best place on Earth as a mission location. Arnold wasn't even paying attention, too busy thinking about all the fun he and Elder Price would have together.

"Uganda."

Kevin thought maybe he heard wrong. That maybe he was in some sort of sub type Hell Dream. Uganda. That didn't even sound fun.

"Cool! Uh," Arnold scratched his head, "Where is that?"

"Africa," the mission leader looked irritated by the question. Arnold had to come up with something to look like he knew what he was talking about. They studied Africa in film study, he was sure.

"Oh, like in the Lion King!" Kevin turned to look at the shorter boy. He nearly broke down right then. He was stuck with this "Mormon" for two years. In Uganda.

While packing their bags later that night there was one thing both boys knew, this was going to be one Hell of a time.


	2. Chapter 2

Kevin did not like traveling by plane. No, scratch that. He did not like traveling with Arnold. Even after laying down the ground rules, which Kevin found completely reasonable and fair, the boy was still an obnoxious nightmare. Currently, after having to listen to thirteen hours of Star Wars Vs Star Trek (what the heck was a Romulan anyway?) and why "One Simply Can't Walk Into Mordor," (Kevin still didn't quite understand why Elder Cunningham said it like that) his companion had finally lapsed into a sugar induced stupor. The boy was apparently fond of Skittles and devoured three bags waiting for the plane to take off. Kevin wished he could rest but he was currently sandwiched between a snoring pseudo-Mormon and a balding woman in her late forties. Needless to say he was uncomfortable.

He still didn't understand how he was going to prove to Heavenly Father that he deserved Planet Orlando once he entered the latter spectrum of life. Ah, that was one thing Kevin found Elder Cunningham had gotten right. His trade mark saying, " Tomorrow's a latter day," should be made into a bumper sticker. He would have to talk with the church upon his return about that.

He checked his watch. Five more hours. Five more hours of watching some middle aged woman constantly brush at her non existent hair and get up to use the restroom every thirty minutes. Five more hours of hearing the vibrato of Elder Cunningham's snores and trying not to look at the drool that was starting to trickle from his open mouth. Kevin hoped a fly would get caught in the opening. Still he couldn't help but think this was a better time than the previous thirteen hours.

Kevin refused to be discouraged. His parents still believed in him. He also knew that it would seem extra special if he was able to succeed here than say France or Norway. No, despite Heavenly Father ignoring his best follower's prayers Kevin knew this was all part of His divine plan.

* * *

Kevin did not like Africa. Not at all. The bus was late, and because of that stupid rule about Mormon underwear his face felt sticky and his shirt was growing see through. He felt disgusting. To make matters worse, other than the declining state of his hair, Elder Cunningham was awake. More importantly he was awake and talking to him about something he had no interest in.

"So Elder Price, my new best friend," Kevin still grew tense when he said that in reference to him. "What do you think of Uganda? It's not as clean as the Lion King, and it's really hot, but other than that it's great. Hey when was our bus supposed to be here? It's like 5:30, our time. Oh right we have to get used to their time now and..." Kevin couldn't focus. Not when he was too busy swatting at irritating fruit flies and mosquitos.

"Yeah buddy, that'll take some getting used to," Arnold beamed at Elder Price. He actually responded! Really Arnold had expected a yes or perhaps a slight nod, so a whole sentence and nickname to boot? It was Christmas. He thought about what his companion had said before they boarded the plane. It's true that Elder Price was definitely the leader, and Arnold agreed whole heartedly that he was a follower. All his life he had been one, so to be partnered with such a great leader like Elder Price was nothing short of perfect.

Arnold knew he had to fix the other man's poor knowledge of Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings, but he had two marvelous years to do so. Arnold had visions of him and Elder Price going to New York together. Renting an apartment, going to Comic Con, being Super Mormons on weekends, and getting yelled at by neighbors for celebrating The Book of Mormon any chance they had. The future was looking bright to Arnold.

"Oh hey, it's our bus best friend!" Elder Cunningham pointed to what Kevin deemed non regulation safe pieces of metal bolted together with an engine. Kevin sighed, at least this day would be over shortly. If he could make it to their base in one piece, both in mind and body.

* * *

While Elder Price was busy speaking with Mafala Arnold was busy making conversation with some of the other villagers. He learned a really cool saying, "Hasa diga eebowai," which he practiced until he got the pronunciation perfect. Only to pray for each time he said it upon finding out the actual meaning from a shocked Elder Price. He didn't meant it Heavenly Father, really. Arnold felt like he was in the Lion King for real, only with more black people. Arnold was laughing with a woman who held a cocooned infant when he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He didn't even register the fact she was wearing what Elder Price would call rags, he was too busy staring at her eyes. They were huge and deep. He felt like if he really wanted to he could siphon out the color and use it for ink. Her hair was curled from either genetics or the humidity, both maybe. Arnold wanted to straighten each curl and watch it bounce back. Her skin was smooth and reminded him of a milk chocolate bar with caramel. There was no way this hot babe was human, she had to be some species of elf or something.

Arnold was thinking of something to say to the girl, but was interrupted by Elder Price's hand snapping in his face.

"Hey, pal, you okay? Nabalungi is going to show us to our new home." Kevin knew the words sounded bitter, but today was just not worth pretending.

"Oh yeah, uh right." Kevin nearly laughed. Now, when the day was nearly over, was when Elder Cunningham was at a loss of words.

Arnold choked. The girl was coming their way. He couldn't say anything, just nod.

"I am Nabalungi, and welcome to my village." So the angel had a name.

Kevin looked at Elder Cunningham. He looked a bit dazed, it was probably from the heat.

"Well I'm Elder Price," he held out a hand, even if he knew he would wash it as soon as possible. Manners were manners. He gestures to the dumbstruck Arnold, "And that's Elder Cunningham."

"It is very nice to meet you," she nods, "Please follow me."

"Well I will see you tomorrow, oh and no matter how hot you get at night keep your windows closed. It keeps the bad things out." With that the African girl left, and Kevin was left with Elder Cunningham once again, who miraculously regained the ability of speech.

"Did you see that Nasonex chick? She was such a hot shade of black," Kevin understood Elder Cunningham's silence now. He was attracted to Nabalungi. Great.

Kevin ignored him and unlocked the door to the mission center. The common room was small, with a couch that was more like a large chair, table, and a few board games underneath. Candyland was being played by two boys, one with sandy blonde hair and the other with hair Kevin would call a cross between auburn and full blown red. Arnold wasted no time making their presence known.

"Hi guys! We're the two newcomers. I'm Elder Cunningham and this is Elder Price," he made large sweeping motions with his hands toward Kevin. The two elders looked up. Kevin was struck by how blue the red haired man's eyes were. He imagined that's what Heaven looked like, at least the sky anyway. He then chastised himself for the blasphemous thought. Something as glorious as Heaven could not even resemble something as corporal as a certain shade of blue that just so happened to be the color of this boy's eyes.

"Oh well hi, I'm Elder Thomas," the blonde went over to Arnold. "But you can call me Elder Poptarts, cause I love 'em so much." The two began talking, walking over to the couch. Kevin was left with Blue Eyes.

"Hi, I'm Elder McKinley," he rose from the floor. "I'm the District Nine leader," he held out a hand and flashed a smile. Kevin couldn't breath. Because it was too hot. That's all. He took the other boy's hand.

"I'm Elder Price," thinking back Kevin will never be sure what possessed him to do it. "You can call me Kevin." The normally confident tone was replaced with a rushed sentence that sounded more like a two syllable word. Kevin didn't flinch, as much as he wanted to, the minute those words left his mouth. If he could have he would have snatched them up and shoved them back down his traitorous throat. The other man looked confused, but soon he smiled once again. Kevin was starting to feel a bit odd when seeing that smile.

"Then you can call me Connor."


	3. Chapter 3

"Come," don't think about what the other meaning of that word is Kevin. "I'll show you two to your room." _How can someone have hair that's red and brown, but neither at the same time?_

"Alright, Connor," Smooth Kevin. He probably thinks your some mentally slow Mormon failure. His cheeks felt weird, Kevin chalked it up to the heat being the reason why his face felt hot. He chanced a glance at the slightly shorter boy. He's the perfect height...for what? Kevin frowned. What was wrong with him? He was the next prophet for Heavenly Father's sake! This blue eyed short guy should not be frazzling him. Must be his nerves, worn from such an arduous day. With Elder Cunningham to no less.

"Nice talking to you Elder Poptarts! Sorry to hear about your sister," The other boy's (Elder Poptarts was it?) smile faltered. Kevin gave Elder Cunningham a raised eyebrow at that last comment, but said nothing. In fact he chose to ignore his companion and speak to Connor instead.

"So uh," Kevin winced at his odd tone. He never sounded like this, even Elder Cunningham looked at him, an eyebrow quirked behind his thick glasses. "How many baptisms did you get?" _Lame._

"Oh," Connor blushed. Kevin stared. Arnold thought about Elder Thomas' dead dancing sister. he wondered if the Necromancer chick danced. "We haven't exactly brought anyone to the Church yet." He rubbed at the nape of his neck and pulled lightly at a few strands of hair.

"Oh, well that's okay-" Arnold cut him off.

"Now you have Elder Price. He's like the best most amazing Mormon I know. He will have the whole village baptized in a week." Kevin beamed. As much the nuisance he was Elder Cunningham was the best at complementing.

"Then I'm really glad you came Kevin, and you too Elder," he waited for Arnold to fill the rest.

"Cunningham," he looked to Elder Price. Had he given permission to use his first name? Why hadn't he told Arnold?

"Right," he clapped his hands, "So I'm sure Nabalungi warned you two about the windows, but I should let you know," he turned and checked the hallway. "The other Elders here don't really discuss," he paused, "personal stuff, so I guess keep the conversations more like small talk, or religious when talking to them. Everyone here has a sensitivity, and well this place doesn't make it easy, so let's not add to the stress." Kevin was too busy staring at the small hand whose fingers ran through what looked like very soft hair.

Arnold just thought about how he already broke that rule with Elder Thomas. He supposed this was why he didn't have any friends. Except Elder Price, his best friend.

The trio came to a thin wooden door. The left surface was slightly chipped, and there was a scratch from the door knob to the floor that stopped about halfway.

"Here's your room," with that Arnold rushed in and jumped on the nearest bed. He closed his eyes and smiled. These were going to be the best two years ever.

About to go in as well Kevin was stopped with the sound of Connor's voice. At that moment Kevin decided he liked it's deeper sound. Not a rumble, just deep.

"Oh, Kevin," don't think about how that could be used in a different situation, "I meant to ask. Where are your things? Elder Cunningham's too." Kevin sighed.

"When we first arrived some men with guns took all of our stuff. They said something about them being gifts for the general."

"They got you too huh? Sorry about that. The only person they didn't take from was me. The said my suitcase was too feminine for the general." Kevin laughed. Connor thought it was a marvelous sound.

"What do you mean feminine?"

"My old suitcase was blue, but it broke right before I was scheduled to go on my mission. My mother insisted I take hers." The next words were rushed out with a flaming face. "It's bright pink." Once again Kevin laughed. It felt nice to know even here he could laugh, as long as Connor was there anyway. He received a faux slap on his shoulder. "Don't laugh, I can't help my mother has poor tastes."

"Sorry," the last laugh was stifled. Kevin, the perfect Kevin Price was suddenly seized with an immense feeling of awkwardness. "I guess I'll turn in now. See you later Connor."

"Yeah. Goodnight Kevin," with that said he turned to his room while Kevin retired to his own. There was still a smile, despite Connor's absence, for the rest of the night.

* * *

Connor, you need to get a grip. Fast. _Turn it off_. That's what the man at that camp said to do whenever you felt anything resembling attraction. Sure Kevin was tall, and had eyes the color of tree bark. What did it matter that he had perfect brown hair or the most wonderful laugh Connor had ever heard? No, stop it thoughts. This is not part of Heavenly Father's plan.

Connor sighed, pulling the hairs at the nape of his neck. His thoughts were a mess. It was the Steve Blade Debacle all over again, only this time he was a whole continent away from home. He had tried, really tried to be the best heterosexual he could be, but the Church was not making it easy for him. Sending him away for two years with only men? What kind of message is that sending? Obviously Connor missed the pro quo on that one. He had tries several tricks taught to him at Elder Swanson's Camp for Confused Boys, such as thinking about girls. Whenever Connor tried to imagine a naked girl his stomach began to churn and he ended up feeling really guilty. Even just thinking about kissing one made Connor squirm. He used to think it was okay to be the mistake he was, but then his dad found out about his thoughts and set him straight. That plan failed apparently.

Entering his room he sees Elder Thomas resting in his bed. Good. Connor knew that it was against the rules, but the heat was ridiculous, and he only ever did it if his companion was already asleep before him. Slowly he removed his customary shirt, tie, and slacks to reveal the Mormon undergarments, which he then removed as well. Replacing them with boxers (Joseph and the Technicolor Dream Coat themed) and a plain white cotton t-shirt. Instantly Connor cooled down, still mad that he wasn't able to stick with such a simple rule in the first place.

He wondered if Kevin slept in other clothes. It made his breathing falter slightly.

Turn it OFF Connor. Guys go with girls. It's what Heavenly Father planned since day one. You can fix this malediction, just forget about it.

Nonetheless Connor fell asleep thinking about brown eyes and the best laugh he had ever heard.


	4. Chapter 4

Kevin was flying. No, he was floating. The air surrounded his skin and seeped down to the marrow of his bones and the ends of his nerves. His eyes were closed and his face tilted upward to the outstretched rays of sun. He had to have died and gone to the Celestial Kingdom.

Upon opening his eyes Kevin realizes he is above Orlando. He sees a nine year old who looks similar to him running about in a haphazard fashion. There is man and a woman, his parents, who smile and hold hands. Kevin cared more about getting to the Log Flume than his parent's display of affection in his child like ingenuity, but now he had a yearning. A deep ache that started in his empty hands and spread throughout his elevated body until it reached his heart's fourth chamber. He wanted to hold someone's hand. He wanted to be able to go to Orlando and visit Shamu with a person wonderful enough to put up with his childish awes and smiles. Kevin hadn't noticed the figure that gripped his outstretched hand. When he finally returned from his thoughts Kevin turned to see a shaded outline holding his hand. He smiled. He could only make out one detail. A mouth. The person was smiling too. It began to open and he waited to hear the voice of the shadow.

"Sleep now little buddy. Put your cares away."

Kevin shot up. Ah, so that was it. He looked around the room. Still in Uganda. Still with Elder Cunningham. Who just so happened to be serenading him some Mormon lullaby.

"What are you doing?"

Arnold stopped. He was singing obviously. He wondered why his best friend had to ask.

"I'm just trying to make you feel better," he smiled, "My mom used to sing it to me whenever I felt bad."

Kevin sighed. He couldn't help but feel grateful that Elder Cunningham was at least trying, if not in his own round about way. Although it didn't make the man any less irritating.

"This is the problem Elder Cunningham. Our focus needs to be on our work." Hypocrite. Dreaming about shadow people and Orlando. At that moment Kevin wondered what Connor was dreaming about, if he was even asleep. "Our work is hard enough as it is. The elders here have yet to bring a single African to the church."

"But then it wouldn't seem as amazing when you did it."

Kevin froze. The fact that this person who he had been nothing but cordial (maybe even borderline rude) to had so much unwavering faith in his abilities astounded him. It was like having confidence walking around in human form to pipe up whenever he needed the boost. He felt like Elder Cunningham's Mormon Hero. At that moment he knew that above all else he would achieve the greatness he was destined to do so that the poor boy had some sort of claim to fame. He would be there to not interfere every step of the way, and Kevin was ready to accept that.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Maybe after this my dad will finally be proud of me."

"I think your dad already has a lot to be proud of right now." Arnold had to back track the conversation.

"Really?"

"Yeah," with that final affirmation Arnold's chest puffed out. Kevin Price, the Kevin Price had just said he was already something to be proud of. This had to be the best thing to happen in his life. Ever. With a smile Arnold returned to his blankets and closed his eyes.

"Goodnight best friend," Kevin almost sighed. He guessed Elder Cunningham still didn't understand they were acquaintances at most.

"Yep, goodnight pal." A nice neutral form of address. Kevin was glad he was so used to being perfectly alright with something that actually bothered him. With any luck he would be able to tolerate Elder Cunningham after the 2 years. Until then he was ready to blow God's freaking mind every step of the way.

* * *

Connor was burning. He knew immediately where he was. A Hell Dream. It smelt of sulfur and there were no definite forms, only gelatinous creatures that morphed from orange to red to black to orange once more. Laughter and screaming. Jews and Catholics. His skin was sticky with what Connor assumed was blood, as it often was, although once it had been urine. Connor knew it was a dream and he knew why he was here. He would always be here. Even after death he would not be granted his own planet, he would just be thrown into this for all eternity. Something was different though. One of the formless shadows took the shape of a man. Connor could not tell who it was, but they walked to him with a kind of confidence not found in a single blood vessel floating about Connor's veins. All Connor knew was that he really wanted to hold the man's hand, so he did. It was only a dream after all. Granted it was a Hell Dream, and the flames were seriously becoming an issue when it came to levels of comfort, but Connor didn't care. He wanted to hold that man's hand, so that's exactly what happened.

As soon as their fingers intertwined Connor woke with a start. Relaying the events in the dream he comes to one conclusion. Heavenly Father had sent him Kevin to lead him away from temptation and back onto the path of Mormon righteousness. Tired sky eyes looked out the window. It was still dark. It was another one of those nights. Sighing Connor stood, quickly glanced at Elder Thomas (who was always last to wake up) and dressed in only his day clothes. The underwear could be left for a colder day, which would not be happening anytime soon. He found it ironic that his Hell Dreams were what helped him get elected District Leader. He was always the first one up, leaving out breakfast choices on the table for the others, and a LED light smile. Of course if they knew it was because he was, well cursed, and had Hell Dreams nightly then they might sing a different tune.

Connor checked the time. 4:30. AM. Rising and heading toward the kitchen that doubled as a dining room (if one medium sized table counted as dining room material that is). Normally they just kept food in the fridge or the cabinets and they would eat in the common room. Connor checked the cabinets for breakfast goods. He sighed in relief, they had one box of Poptarts left. Elder Thomas had some serious connection issues with the packaged pastry or something because he had cried. Actually cried. All because they ran out. Connor wondered why that was, but never asked. If he asked then they would ask him questions he wouldn't be able to answer without lying, which was also a sin. Go figure.

Cereal, a single package of Poptarts (of the strawberry variety), and bread. The fridge had fruit, butter, and half a gallon of milk. Connor thought of making toast, but remembered they lacked a working toaster oven. He still can't believe one of the elders thought that's where one make omelets. He put the bread and butter back. Today he would run out and purchase a new one in the city near by.

Sitting on the couch Connor sighed. That only wasted 30 minutes of his time. He wished he could sleep, but knew it would seem strange if he was caught resting on the couch. As far as everyone was concerned he slept soundly until 6:35, which gave him the normal amount of rest for any self respecting District Leader. Suddenly he heard a thump. Jumping slightly Connor turned toward the hallway opening. It was Kevin. He felt his jaw drop and his heart speed up. The taller boy looked just as surprised.

"What are you doing up?" The question was asked in unison by both men.

"I just-"

"Oh you kno-"

Once again same timing and different phrasing. Connor felt his face flushing. Kevin rubbed his neck.

"What are doing up so early," Kevin felt stupid for numerous reasons. One, he didn't get to brush his hair. Two, he never experienced moments as awkward as a few seconds prior. And three, it was Connor and for some reason only the red head had that effect.

"I'm District Leader. It's my job." Connor winced. He sounded so defensive, which of course Kevin picked up on right away.

"Oh, right," Kevin dang it say something to calm the other boy. "I didn't know that you had to wake up at five." Nice. Way to make a circle conversation Mr. Perfect.

"Yep," Connor felt undone. Why was Kevin up? And why in Heavenly Father's name was his hair so ruffled? It was...distracting. "What about you? What's your reason for being such an early bird?" Connor would have face palmed. Who says that? He grew red again and looked anywhere but Kevin.

Kevin smiled, although he wondered why Connor was constantly red in the face. Maybe it was the heat? He hoped that's why Connor thought he was turning slightly pink cheeked-because that was the reason. Yes, the heat.

"Well my dad always made us get up at five to make sure we looked presentable. Then usually we had to pray for a good 20 minutes." Kevin didn't understand why admitting that made him so uncomfortable. Perhaps it was because he had a set routine his whole life. Dress. Breakfast. Hair. Teeth. Pray. Now Connor was here and Kevin wasn't sure if he wanted that routine anymore.

"Oh that sounds," Connor thought it sounded awful, "fun." He also realized that he was being rude by taking up all the space on the couch and Kevin was left standing. He shifted and pretended to check the time. "You can," don't turn into a tomato, "sit if you want." Of course his face didn't listen.

Kevin wasn't sure why he got insanely happy when invited to sit next to Connor _by_ Connor, but he did and it was a feeling he had never experienced before. Sitting next to him he became hyper aware of the other boy. If he inched over only slightly their legs would be touching. Kevin took the risk. It wasn't anything really, plenty of mission companions got touchy with hugs and what not, so Connor wasn't exactly his companion. Big deal.

Connor felt stiff. He doubted that Kevin realized their thighs were touching. Deal with it Connor, he's your ticket to the straight road. Oh, what does Kevin even think about homosexuals? Connor knew he would have to ask, but it didn't make him any less anxious about the elder's response.

"Kevin," don't make it awkward. Anything but awkward. "I have a friend back home, Steve," that's not a lie. You're doing good, keep going. "He admitted to me that he has," don't stutter over the word, "gay thoughts about me and him." You just bent the truth slightly, no big deal. He furtively glanced at Kevin. The brown eyes were wide and he wasn't smiling, but he didn't look disgusted either. "So, I guess I just need your opinion on what to do for him when I return home." Connor was wringing his hands and one foot tapped incessantly on the floor. Kevin said nothing.

This other new feeling was strange. Kevin got it in smaller doses when his father praised Jack, his youngest brother, instead of him, but this. This was something else. A gnawing pit that began in his stomach and spread throughout his whole body. Steve? What kind of name was that anyway? Steve thinking about kissing and hugging and holding Connor. Kevin did not like Steve.

"Well," answer this so you don't hurt Connor's feelings, but show your distaste for Steve. "I think it's okay to have gay thoughts," Connor's head snapped to Kevin, "As long as you don't act on them." Connor didn't know what to say. Kevin, King of Mormons, just said gay thoughts were okay.

"But, but that's lying." Connor didn't know how to respond.

"Well everyone has had gay thoughts, it's a form of temptation. Whether or not you act on them is the difference." Kevin did not want to talk about Steve anymore. He wanted to talk with Connor and his fox colored hair. He wondered what it felt like. He imagined it would be light and soft, like if light had a texture. Suddenly he wished Connor had been the person whose hand he held in his dream, and that thought scared him.

Connor smiled. That was the kindest opinion about people like him he had heard from another Mormon. It helped to think everyone was faced with this, and most came out unbent. Kevin was an excellent savior so far.

"Uh, pardon my asking Connor, but why such a personal question. We only met a few hours ago, and you said that you guys didn't really talk about this stuff." Kevin congratulated himself with the smooth subject switch. Now maybe he would stop feeling all of these bizarre wants.

"Oh, I heard you were one of the best, and I trust that you won't let anyone know." Kevin held his breath. Connor trusted him. The idea of people trusting him was nothing new, but for some reason when Connor said it Kevin felt light headed. He vowed he would never shatter the trust Connor had in him. It felt too...too something to let go of.

"I would never." Connor relaxed, only just realizing he was leaning as far from Kevin as possible. This made them significantly closer. He wished he could tell him about the Hell Dreams, but that was something else entirely.

Upon noticing the distance between them shrink Kevin grew nervous, although he found no valid reason as to why.

Soon both were wrapped up a conversation that varied from Disney to Broadway to unnoticed flirting. All of it defended by the layers of denial that accompanied the mutual attraction. Connor had on a real smile and Kevin had forgotten to pray by 6:30.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey Elder Price," Arnold still wished he could call him Kevin like the red head, after all _he_ was Elder Price's mission companion, not that McKinley guy.

"Yeah, pal?" Kevin was tired and irritated. He had wanted to continue talking with Connor. They had gotten into an interesting topic of favorite Disney song. He of course picked Poor Unfortunate Souls from The Little Mermaid, and Connor chose Reflection from Mulan. Kevin wondered why, considering Connor was already good looking with a nice personality. Did he just admit to finding Connor attractive? No, more like...acknowledging his above average appearance. Everyone did that. Still now he was stuck with Elder Cunningham walking to the village in what had to be ninety degrees at 7 in the morning. The Mormon underwear was no help.

"How many do you think we'll baptize today?" Arnold was already getting made fun of by some of the other elders. This whole being awesome thing had to happen a bit faster, after all Arnold only did this to make friends.

"Oh, probably only two or three. We need to make sure they devote their lives to the church first." Kevin knew they would only get a few the first day, but was confident in his excellence that in two days time they would have more than half the village covert.

"Oh. Do you think Necrophilia will want to convert? I bet she'd make a great Mormon," Arnold hoped to see her again, but what would he say? He assumed Kevin would do all the talking and he would just affirm that what he was saying was the best religion in the world. He hoped Naba-something would be one of the two today.

"Well I'm not sure, her father seems really protective," upon seeing Elder Cunningham's smile drop Kevin tried his best to truth-lie. It was something he picked up on to better deal with his dad back at home. "But you never know. She seems like the kind of person who will listen." Kevin had no idea what kind of person Nabalungi was, but it made his companion smile again all the same.

"Cool, thanks best friend." If Elder Price thought NabaSomethingOrOther was ready for inspiration then she had to be perfect. He felt a tad queasy actually. His heart palpated, and did his glasses need cleaning?

Kevin nearly pulled at his hair. Elder Cunningham still called him that. The logic behind the other man's thought process was beyond him. Deep breath. Think about Orlando. Think about shaking Mickey's giant gloved cloth hand. Think about Connor laughing because you said something funny. Think about Connor's eyes and how they change color with his mood, often remaining a pensive light blue. Think about Connor in Orlando with you holding-

Wait. What was wrong with him? Kevin nearly slapped himself. This was no time to day dream. They were almost at the village and he was thinking about Connor. This was not good, but why him? It had to be because Connor was the only one nice to him so far. The others were alright, Kevin assumed so anyway. He never really gave them much thought until now.

"Sure, but pal," Arnold looked over to Elder Price, "just let me do all the talking. Okay?" Arnold nodded. "You can be the person to agree with everything I'm saying."

"Like the person in commercials?"

"Uh, yeah. Whatever," Kevin tapped his fingers on his leg. They were here. He took a deep breath. Arnold saw the other boy. He was sweating and fidgety. His hands shot up to his perfectly precise hair to smooth a stray hair that was not there.

"Hey, like you said," he clapped his hand on the other's arm, "You are awesome." Kevin looked at his companion. He decided that despite his numerous faults he was a good person, although he would never admit that to anyone who asked. He smiled.

"Thanks pal."

Connor was distracted. Doing the daily weekend city run with Elder Thomas had never felt any more arduous, although the bus hadn't broken down this time. Every five minutes he thought of Kevin. Or of neatly combed brown hair. Ruffled brown hair. Amber eyes. A smile that put the most photogenic person on Earth to shame. Hugging. Kis-

"So what do you think Elder McKinley?" Connor had never been more grateful for his vociferous companion.

"May you repeat that Elder? I was thinking about what to get for dinner these next few days."

"Oh no problem Elder," Elder Thomas just beamed and took a breath. "So I was thinking that since we have like the best Mormon ever and whoever that other guy is, his buddy, that we should get a cake to celebrate all the baptisms we're going to get. It could be a normal cake or a Poptart cake. Just you know, as something special. We could play games too, and like an introduction game so that everyone knows everyone."

Connor was nearly floored by the speech that sounded more like a sentence. He would never get used to the speed that Elder Thomas possessed when speaking. A cake sounded nice, but he doubted that they had enough money to purchase one. Let alone one big enough for all of them.

"Well," Elder Thomas' face dropped. Connor felt as though he beat a puppy and then shoved its little bruised body into a meat grinder. He also felt like he needed some serious prayer after that analogy. Maybe they could not have fruit for a week or two. It's not like it was that safe to begin with anyway.

"Alright Elder, I understand," he smiled and feigned interest in the horizon. Connor wanted to say something, but if it meant having cherries for a week he just couldn't bring himself to do it, even if it would have eased his guilty thoughts. Tonight was going to be brutal later.

"If you want we could buy cake flavored poptarts and play," quick what games did they even have?

"Oh, how about charades!" Connor was glad for the easy nature of Elder Thomas. It's not his fault he was forced to be parsimonious, but no one understood the necessity of saving for the essentials. Those being food, toiletries, first aid, and various mismatch items for general needs. Not cake. Or board games. Or new books. Or movies. Connor was able to resist all of these things and more, yet somehow whenever he was with Elder Thomas they left the city with Monopoly or chocolate chip cookies (although those had been worth every penny, but not the lack of clean clothes for two weeks).

"Sure thing. We'll extend curfew to 8:30 to give us more time," and to give me less of Hell, which Connor left to reverberate the curvatures within his skull.

"Alright," and with those words an eager fist was thrust into the cloudless sky.


	6. Chapter 6

Today had been a bad day. By bad Kevin meant he was currently walking back to the center with blood over his face and shirt, and not a single African even interested in the church. He supposed he should count himself lucky that the blood wasn't his own, but really he was tired and felt like a failure (was this how Elder Cunningham felt like all the time?), which meant no bright side thinking until he had something to be happy about. Not to mention he promised, well silently promised anyway, Connor that he would baptize the Africans right away. Kevin was a ticking time bomb of virulent thoughts.

Arnold was shocked. Kevin had probably given the best ever speech on The Book of Mormon he had ever heard, but no one even asked reliability questions like the people back home. Sure one person asked what a steak knife was, and in retrospect Arnold probably shouldn't have mentioned them in the first place. He had just been so involved in his role and was running out of things to say. Nabalungi was distracting as well, although she paid more attention to Elder Price than to him. Normally Arnold would understand, but this time he was pissed, another word he never said out loud. Elder Price didn't even care about Naba, just about baptizing her. The thought of anyone but him baptizing the young woman made Arnold want to punch the air and kick the ground. Arnold knew though that Elder Price didn't think about Naba that way (not that he did either), but it still made him want to stop praising the Super Mormon.

"So, uh Elder Price," at least try to make him feel better Arnold. "Uh, I'm sure we'll do better tomorrow." Right, because that was the most encouraging thing he heard leave his mouth. Ever.

"Africa is nothing like The Lion King," Kevin stared straight ahead. His eyes never blinked. "I think," he paused, simply gazing with empty eyes, "they took a lot of artistic license with that movie." With that he said nothing. What was he supposed to say anyway? He was covered in a dead man's brains and blood for Heavenly Father's sake.

Arnold wasn't sure what to say either, so silence settled with the deepening dusk and setting sun.

* * *

Connor was waiting with Elder Thomas and a few others in the sitting room. A plate with strawberry (they didn't have any other flavor) poptarts arranged in a faux cake sat atop the table. He couldn't wait to hear about all the new converts, even more so seeing Kevin and being able to give him a hug without the action seeming strange. His jaw popped when he saw the two cross the threshold.

It wasn't due to Kevin's overall attractiveness (nor would it ever be for that absolutely absurd reason), rather the speckles of blood that cover his face and shirt. His only shirt. Seeing as his luggage was taken for the general, which Connor assumes is who Kevin met today.

"Oh my gosh, Kev-" Connor nearly said the other's first name, but realized that the other elders would disapprove. "Elder Price. What happened?" He rushed past the table, Elder Thomas' smile was completely effaced now. The others looked uncomfortable and shifted on slack covered legs. "Are you okay?" He reached out and held Kevin's shoulder. The other jerked back, his eyes snapping into focus. He relaxed upon realizing it had only been Connor.

"Yes," something in Kevin snapped. He was infuriated, and that was a light description. Connor cringed at the tone of his voice. "I am perfectly alright. I just got deployed to freaking Uganda with the worst Mormon I have ever seen," everyone now looks at the reddening Arnold. He wished he could redo that moment. Make it so that he wasn't in the room, that way he would never have to hear the words. Instead he was left a pathetic statue, and the worst being that he had no idea Elder Price hated him. He had honestly thought they were getting along. Arnold felt like spitting, he wished he still had his luggage. He had packed his favorite books and comics. There wasn't an auditorium, but loneliness never stayed in one place.

"Now, uh Elder, don't go doing-"

"And you," Kevin pointed to Connor, "Why are you calling me that? Is it because I can't even get one African interested? Or because you had the same hope in me," he threw his hands upward, "that everyone else does? I'm sorry I can't work in this forsaken pseudo-Hell." The last word elicited a gasp from the others. Arnold had left in the middle, not even making a grab for a poptart. Connor was confused, not to mention dismayed that Kevin was yelling at him. He needed to make this a more private scene.

"Alright guys," he clapped his hands and slapped a smile. "Elder Price and I are going to have a talk about some stuff. I know we don't normally do this but he seems to be having trouble turning it off." The familiar terminology made most of the elders nod their heads, and most turned to leave. A few even took a poptart or two on their way out (four in Elder Thomas' case).

Connor waited until everyone left and turned to the catatonic Kevin. He assumed this is what he had been like while brewing that rather turbulent outburst of just being raw. He pushed him to the couch, feeling his tense arm underneath his shirt. Sitting he spoke softly.

"Kevin, I was only calling you elder because the others would be unhappy if I broke that rule in front of them, not because you didn't baptize any of the Africans." Connor knew it wasn't the root of the problem, but he had to start somewhere. Plus he didn't want Kevin thinking he was disappointed or had ridiculously high expectations. Although thinking about it, did he have higher expectations for Kevin? Suddenly he felt guilty, even without evidence that he was giving off the air of wanting more than the other could give. "I'm sorry I made you think that you had to be the absolute best and baptize everyone. I didn't mean to." Look at me.

Kevin finally registered what happened. He sincerely hoped that he had not said that about Elder Cunningham. What else, ranting and raving about pressure? Where did that come from? Connor not calling him by his first name. Kevin sighed and rubbed his face. This was not a good way to start the first full day.

"I apologize Connor. I'm not sure what came over me," he sat up, little flecks of blood flaked from his shirt and face. "It will not happen again. Is," he paused. Should he ask? He decided he would go with Elder Cunningham's way of speech, speaking of which he needed to speak to his companion immediately. "Is everything cool," Connor raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure what the brown haired man was asking. He looked earnest, and was gesturing from himself to Connor and back again.

"Oh," Connor's face began to tint itself a light pink that was darkening rapidly. "Yeah, everything's good." He rubbed his neck. "Uh do you need to," just spit it out Connor, "talk about it?" The last half of the sentence was horribly rushed. There was no way his face wasn't an apple at this point.

"No." Kevin's response was nearly automatic, although he guessed in truth it really was considering that was his default answer to that question. "Hey, do you have an extra shirt I could borrow? This is my only one and it's, well covered in blood." He tried to keep his voice light, but it was just too late in the day for it to be convincing. He did smile though, only for Connor.

"Oh, yeah I have a few. But I don't think you will be able to fit. You're a bit more," say it without sounding weird, "muscular," way to salivate Connor, "than me."

"Not really, it's not like you're a scarecrow or anything. I'll just leave some buttons undone and cover it up with a tie or something."

Connor personally thought he resembled a rag doll with extra long arms, but still managed to be below average height wise. Kevin was most assuredly repenting for his previous outburst.

"Well goodnight Connor. Thanks for trying to celebrate," Kevin just noticed the table and miniature banner. "I'm really, really sorry." He stood and held out his hand. It shook and Kevin mentally berated himself for it.

"Oh, well you too Kevin. Thanks for," Connor paused, unsure what of what to say, "calming down." He grimaced, until he heard it. The laugh. Kevin's wonderful laugh. It filled the room and his head was thrown back and hand still out. Connor finally shook it, smiling too.


	7. Chapter 7

The months passed in a way Kevin would describe as the following. If one were to take molasses and ram a stick into the ooze, lifting it into the air and then sit and watch the drips of liquid sugar creep from the tip of the stick back down to Earth it would still feel faster than his first few months in Uganda. The only bearable things were the early morning conversations had between himself and Connor. He learned that the red head had a tie collection, his favorite being the blue one. Kevin couldn't help but agree, it made his eyes clearer than the blue between the clouds. He learned that Connor's favorite fruit was cherries, and that was mainly the memory that came with the food. How as a child he would sit with his sister and have pit spitting contests in the hot summers of Utah when he wasn't out advocating for the Mormon faith. He knew Connor had a father who was fairly calm compared to a mother who happened to be a tad high strung. He knew his younger sister, Katherine, wrote him letters that he would always respond to. Every single one saying that everything was going just fine.

Yes, Kevin knew a lot about Connor McKinley, and in turn Connor knew about parts of Kevin's life as well. Connor knew that Kevin would redo things when anxious until he got it just right, and his most repetitive action was the care of his hair. He knew that it wasn't hard to make Kevin laugh, if you said the right thing. Most of the time Connor never really understood why Kevin laughed at what he said, but he was glad it was often all the same. He knew Kevin had a father who expected the best and a mother who already thought the world of her son. He heard about his most irk inducing brother, Jack, and the donut escapade that happened 14 years ago.

All of this and more acquired from early morning trysts. They were the only things that made the time in this country bearable. Elder Cunningham no longer spoke to him, and Kevin had no idea how to apologize. Really he had planned to march into their room and request that the other forgive him, instead he ignored the other and fell into a fitful sleep. Kevin had never done it before, so to do something that humiliating for none other than Elder Cunningham was difficult to wrap his mind around. To top it off he hadn't had a single convert under his wing. Only Elder Cunningham managed to get the Africans to listen, and those who stuck by him experienced the trickle effect and got in a few baptisms as well. Needless to say Kevin was confused.

Why would Heavenly Father allow for things to happen this way? What had he done to deserve such penitence? More to the point why were these bad thing happening? Where is the mercy they hear so much about? Thank goodness for Connor is all Kevin could think time and time again. After his outburst the blue spectrum eyed boy was the only elder who spoke to him. The others thought him too obnoxious or mentally unstable, although Kevin didn't really care, as long as Connor spoke to him.

Kevin was not only muddled in his thoughts about God, but Connor as well. He had strange dreams of them in Orlando, of them holding hands, or hugging. He felt off when he was around Connor, especially during their clandestine morning meetings. Sometimes he wanted to touch the color changing hair and see if the red or brown pieces were softer, other times he just wanted to...well that's just it. He had no idea what that other thing was, and the frustration was beginning to build.

Which is how he found himself awake a good hour earlier than usual staring at the ceiling and tuning out Elder Cunningham's, or rather Prophet Cunningham's as the villagers have take to calling his companion, snores.

"I might as well get up and get my breakfast then." Kevin turned to make sure the other had not stirred, which of course he didn't. Rising he stumbled into the hallway, it was still dark after all, and into the sitting room. He was shocked to see Connor curled up into a ball on the couch. His head burrowed in between his arms. He was muttering.

"It's just a dream, nothing more. A dream." Kevin rushed to the distraught Connor.

"Hey," his head shot up immediately. His eyes were red along with faint streaks on his face that were wet once. "Are you alright?" Connor's eyes widened and Kevin saw their color was nearly grey. He had never seen Connor's eyes look so drained. It filled him with a kind of pain he couldn't really put into words.

"Yes," a blatant lie. Still Kevin didn't know what to do. He never had to comfort someone, but he knew one thing. He was not singing that song Elder Cunningham sang on their first day. That obviously did nothing in the long run. He supposed he should get Connor to admit to there being a problem.

"You sure," way to sound like a moron Kevin, "Cause you could tell me if it wasn't." Personally Kevin thought he was going about this whole condolence thing incorrectly, but apparently Connor thought other wise. Or maybe he just knew when the fight was pointless.

"It's stupid, but I had a Hell Dream and whenever I have them I can't go back to sleep." Connor was beyond embarrassed at this point. When one admits to a fellow Mormon that they continue to have Hell Dreams while nearly twenty years old usually they are asking to be ostracized. Not to mention the dreams were of a gay variety. A gay variety with Kevin to be more precise. Connor was most assuredly not telling him that. He was however surprised at the feeling of two arms enveloping him and pulling him toward a very warm chest.

"It's not stupid," Connor closed his eyes and subtly inhaled the scent of Kevin Price. Not gay, just becoming used to one's surroundings. It was clean, with something akin to grass and cinnamon lingering like small after thoughts. It was different, but good all the same. "You know that story I told you about my brother and I? When I blamed him for eating some maple donut? I had a Hell Dream. It's something else. No matter how dumb the reason, like mine," that elicited a smile from the upset boy, "it will always be something to get freaked out over." He ran his fingers through Connor's hair. It was soft and light, just like he thought. His mom did that to him when they hugged so why not do it to Connor? Even if he wasn't Connor's mom, which was a weird thought in itself. He formed a steady rhythm of pull, run, pull. He think it soothed the distressed man. "If you don't mind my asking how many have you had?"

Connor wasn't sure how to answer this. With a lie, only to have double the Hell fire tomorrow, or with the truth and be prepared to make up a reason why. Which of course meant more punishment as well. It didn't help that Connor felt like he could just slip back into sleep against Kevin's chest. The words came out in a slur.

"Mm, nightly." His eyes shut. This was nice, and he was absolutely not thinking of this in anyway other than a friend helping a friend. Nope. Not at all. Connor frowned. Okay, so he was thinking blasphemous thoughts about the world's former Best Mormon. It's fine, Kevin said so anyway. Nothing would come of it. That's what mattered. So why did that reality cause Connor to subtly, well he thought it was fairly incognito, nestle into the scent of warm summer nights and spice racks? Not to mention the tugging of his hair was soothing. Connor felt like a giant cat.

"What?" Kevin thought he had been confused before, but now. Now he was angry. Heavenly Father, in all his compassion, has chosen this innocent and (for lack of a better word) awesome person to receive Hell Dreams every night. That, that had to be a mistake. It seemed like in all his omniscience God was making a lot of those lately. Kevin wondered how Connor managed to go on without even once frowning for the whole day. He was probably the nicest, as well as strongest, person he had ever met. "Why?"

Connor stiffened. Kevin noticed.

"Sorry, you uh," darn it Kevin, you are the worst one to give solace for anything. Not as perfect as you thought huh? "You don't have to tell me, if it's personal or something." Just change your name to suave already.

"I think I'll just," relaxing once more Connor shut his eyes, "catch up on my sleep. If that's alright with you?" Kevin could only nod. He barely breathed, he didn't even move. Connor's breath slowed, and soon his body was entirely slack against Kevin's. All Kevin could think about was how Connor smelled of mint and a kind of citrus he couldn't name exactly. Or how he got to touch his hair and hug him within the time span of five minutes, and now he had Connor's slightly smaller frame resting against him.

Kevin began to feel a bit strange.

The feeling brought back memories of a rushed health class from 8th grade. That year he learned how babies did not come from angles who carried them from phantasmagorical realms on far away planets, but rather a sperm cell and an egg (but not like a bird, that was made very clear). He learned that boys go with girls, and that if you were to engage in baby making activities before you were married your penis would fall off. Condoms were some sort of rubber device made by Satan himself. Sex equaled disease and Hell, and you could never touch a girl unless she let's you and that better be a peck on the cheek only. The last thing being that if he felt he really liked someone, sometimes a boy would get an erection. If that were to happen he was instructed to ignore the thing or take a cold shower. Kevin had never had that before, in fact the concept was very foreign to him. Some of his friends told horror stories about them, and one kid, Timothy Brenstead, confessed to touching it and having Hell Dreams for months afterward.

Kevin was pretty sure that he had an erection.

It's not like it was concrete though, more like an educated guess. It was uncomfortable to say the least, especially when Connor would rub against it slightly. Kevin, nearly panicked when the sleeping boy shifted and his thigh ended up pressing into it. He also had to bite back a sound he didn't even know he could make. The sensation was a new one to say the least. He checked the time. 5:30. That presented enough time for him to shower, but he didn't want to leave Connor. What if he had another Hell Dream and thought he had left him? Still, even worse, what if he woke up with this, this thing poking him? That certainly wouldn't help matters for the guilt ridden man. No, Kevin would have to shower. There could be cuddling (that happens to be a very masculine word) later. That thought alone made his, he couldn't even think the word without blushing. It made his erection jump, or whatever it was the darn thing was doing. Slowly moving Connor onto the couch Kevin rose, and was shocked to see a bulge in his jeans. This was getting to the point of being ridiculous. He quickly placed a blanket over the slumbering Connor and ran to the bathroom.

It took him twenty minutes of pointedly ignoring the weird pulse (is it even possible for that thing to do that?) and washing his hair just short of five times before he could exit the shower without further embarrassment.


	8. Chapter 8

Kevin liked to think he was in control of every situation that presented itself to him. Often when he was a child and he had to do simple tasks such as washing the dishes Kevin would have a very organized system of how to go about finishing that chore with the most efficiency. He would take every plate and rinse them, placing them largest to smallest in the dishwasher. Followed by bowls, cups, glasses, and silverware (which was a whole new universe entirely). He then scrubbed every pot and pan and place them in various patterns, a new one every time of course, in the drain board. Kevin also knew the ways of the adult world at a very young age thanks to his father. The standard rule of honesty being the best policy omitted the fact that if it's not flattering or makes some people upset it's best you not say it, even if it's the truth. This is how Kevin would always make sure his father knew he was the one in control while is loyal son was always ready to listen, even if that wasn't exactly true. The same rule of thumb applied to his brother as well. It's not that Kevin was a liar or had some sort of mental disease that made you anal, it was more along the lines of he just liked the feeling of decision and clarity that came with control.

This is is why he hated erections. It seems that once you get one you can't not have them on an increasing basis. No choice. No control. Just an erection. Kevin would be minding his own business and bam, it would just show up and he would have to ignore the thing for hours, or if no one was around take an ice cold shower (which he hated). The worst of these moments in which Kevin wished he had been born a woman, seeing as they didn't have to deal with anything, being the Elder Thomas Incident.

* * *

Kevin had been sitting on the sofa reading The Book. That's pretty much all he did now considering no one other than Connor, who was busy with leadership duties, spoke to him. Often Kevin was left alone, and in that loneliness he found himself asking why Heavenly Father did such cruel, seemingly useless things. Or Connor. Kevin always thought about Connor. That's a main part of the Elder Thomas incident actually, but let's not jump the gun on that.

Kevin had been reading, he wasn't focused on the scripture though, but it's always better to look like your doing something. He refused to let the others know he hated it here. That he was perfectly capable being left to himself. That he didn't care, even if in truth this is probably how Elder Cunningham felt like back at home. He wondered how the other dealt with it so well. In his speculation Kevin failed to acknowledge Elder Thomas approach him with a smile and a poptart.

"Hello Elder Price! How are you?" Kevin started and glanced up at the blonde. He thought maybe he was hallucinating until he realized who it was. Elder Thomas was kind, if not a bit off when certain subjects were mentioned, like dancing. Kevin enjoyed dancing, and as a form of retribution he suggested they all learn a form of dance and teach the Africans. It took three people, including Connor, to calm the hysteric Elder Thomas. It was only later, in the next morning, that Connor informed Kevin that Elder Tomas' sister had been a dancer, until she died of breast cancer. Kevin was curious as to why he chose to speak to him now, after nearly 3 months of doing as the others had done. Pointedly ignoring his existence.

"Good," he spoke slowly, "and you?" Elder Thomas, as much as Kevin loved Connor's real smile, thought that the boy could power an electric plant each time he chose to really beam. He held out the poptart. It was strawberry, his most hated flavor of anything, which meant he did not have poptarts for breakfast seeing as it was the only flavor they got. Still Kevin did not plan on offending the walking ray of sunshine twice. He took the poptart.

"I just wanted to apologize for not having my manners. If something were to happen and you were left alone, well," the smile quavered, "I wouldn't be able to forgive myself." Kevin wondered why Elder Thomas had this sudden urge to "do the right thing," but he didn't push it. Something else Uganda has taught him. He figured he should probably apologize for his callousness, even if it was unintended.

"Uh, thanks. I'm sorry too." He shifted on the couch, "Want to sit?"

"Sure!" The short boy jumped to opposite side of the couch and began to chatter away. Kevin was glad that his input was kept minimal.

Elder Thomas spoke about game Friday, and how if he wanted Kevin could participate instead of stay in his room. It's not like they were WASP-ish socialites and he could only attend if he had in invitation. Kevin was surprised Elder Thomas knew what a socialite was. He told him about the obvious crush that Elder Cunningham had on Naba, which is what everyone took to calling her for pronunciation's sake. The feeling was mutual, but neither seemed to notice. He relayed that the entire village and more than half the neighboring town had been converted all thanks to "Prophet Cunningham." Kevin pretended that didn't bother him. He learned about what the others thought of him too. Apparently he was a megalomaniac who had an unhealthy obsession with his hair as well as Orlando. He couldn't exactly argue with the latter assumption. Another popular thought being he chose to be alone and in reality hated everyone. That last one nearly made Kevin laugh out right. If that's what they thought then he could do without the less intelligent company.

Then Connor came into the conversation.

"Yeah, and I think you are totally helping Elder McKinley too. He used to have these weird smiles that weren't quite right, but now they're real and he has them all the time. It's funny he used to mutter about turning it off all the time. It was a phrase he said he learned from some pray the gay away camp he attended the summer before coming here, but now he's all happy and nice and doesn't talk about sad things to himself anymore." Kevin stopped listening after gay.

Connor had gay thoughts.

Connor thought about kissing boys.

Connor thought about-Kevin couldn't finish the thought without blushing. Elder Thomas did not notice. Kevin wondered if Connor thought about kissing him. That made him begin to feel a bit hot. His breath was accelerating.

"Oh, really? I didn't know Elder McKinley was that way." He couldn't even say the word. His pants, his pants felt tight. Kevin would have sworn if he could. Why here? Now, with the first elder to speak to him in months was his...his problem acting up? He curled into a ball. Renegade thoughts of Connor and the word gay swirled in his head creating a fog around his common sense.

"Oh no, he's not. Just thoughts. He let it slip that he had this kind of feelings for his best friend Steve and his dad found out. I think that's why he was deployed to Uganda." Steve. Kevin hated Steve. In fact he thought maybe it would be best if Connor never spoke to Steve again. Or thought of him. He began to grow uncomfortable.

"Oh, well I didn't know that." He didn't know what to say. All he could think about was Connor and how Connor thought about doing things to boys. He wondered what those things would be. Kevin didn't know how to touch a boy like you would a girl. He wondered if Connor knew. He began to imagine horrible scenarios in which the red head did more than think about Steve. Kiss. What if he kissed Steve? Kevin frowned. He would have to ask Connor. Everything. It was simply unacceptable to be left in the dark this long.

Later Kevin would blame what he did on the fact that his head was not screwed on right at the time. More like it was rolling around the floor laughing at him and his inability to suppress laws of human nature.

He stood up. Kevin Price with his stupid erection and flustered face stood up. Elder Thomas began to blush and avert his eyes.

"Um Elder, you," his voice had raised a whole octave, "you have a uh problem there." Kevin looked down and immediately wanted to slap himself. He had not only embarrassed himself, but poor Elder Thomas as well. At the time though, all he could think about was Connor being gay. Connor was gay. Gay.

"Right, I need to go. Uh sorry Elder Poptarts about," he semi gestured to the bulge in his pants. Just leave darn it, don't drag it out like some sick animal.

He spent 30 minutes in the shower reciting scripture and watching his fingers turn white and then a faint purple.

* * *

That happened two weeks ago and Elder Thomas does not look him in the eye. Kevin felt like an idiot. Why was this happening? Is it retribution for never having any as a young teenager? He wouldn't be too surprised if this was God's sense of humor kicking in. Another thing Uganda taught him. God was the funniest thing in all of existence. He couldn't bring himself to ask Connor about the information he received. He refused to have an erection around Connor. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if Connor just stopped speaking to him. Instead he dealt with it. It became frustrating at times and it seemed there was something missing whenever they left on their own, but Kevin didn't push the dam.

Until today of course.

Kevin found that he liked comforting Connor when the other boy was particularly upset after a Hell Dream. In fact he liked it so much that every morning he would wake up at 4 and check on Connor. Or wait for Connor. Whoever got there first. He would hug him and run his fingers in tousled hair. Once the other calmed down they would talk. Only this time Kevin decided, in his sleep deprived and unknown sexual frustration, to be a polemical idiot.

"Hey, Connor," his hand stopped moving, "Why did you lie to me?" This caught the dozing boy's attention. He sat up. Both missed the hug.

"I didn't lie about anything." Connor prayed this wasn't happening.

"What about Steve? Did you lie about that?" Kevin didn't intend to sound like he was interrogating the man, but tone was everything and that was something Kevin found he couldn't control.

Connor blanched. How did Kevin find out?

"I, meant to tell you," nice Connor. "Really I did, but I didn't want you to hate me. Not like my parents." Connor cringed. Why had he added that? Now all Kevin would do was pity him and his stupid gay thoughts. Kevin felt like a jerk. He didn't even consider Connor's reasoning. He softened and pulled Connor back into a hug. He decided cuddling was quite nice that first night he saw Connor after the Hell Dream.

"I can't hate you." Connor sighed. He felt as if the sky left his shoulders and bricks were lifted from his lungs. "Can you tell me the truth though," it wasn't a question. Kevin needed the curtain lifted or he would lose it. Connor appeared to understand.

"It started in fifth grade. We hadn't had health yet and no one mention the word," he dropped to a whisper, "gay." He looked up to gauge Kevin's reaction. He just appeared focused. "Steve Blade was my best friend. We did everything together. We had sleep overs, but we never called them that. It was just hanging out. We were always partners for stuff at the mission center. We would make fun of teachers, do home work, and spend our summers down at this lake used by what had been a summer camp. It was just empty cabins and we found one uninhabited that we made our fort. We brought books, The Book, candles, food, awards, and sometimes he would bring his dog, Tangerine. During that time when it's not light or dark we would catch fireflies and then set them free again. We would go swimming and just talk. Pointless inconsequential things made up our friendship. It was wonderful." Connor smiled, Kevin frowned but nodded. He still hated Steve, if not more now.

"In fifth grade I began to have these feelings for him. I would think about us kissing and living alone on some island together," with that said his faced began to darken. "I was stupid, and for the next two years those thoughts laced with Hell fire grew and grew. Until finally, on the last day before we entered eighth grade I did something stupid." Connor stopped. Should he tell Kevin? He inched closer and gulped the air for courage.

"I kissed him."

Kevin's world stopped turning. He felt as though he had been flung into the harsh atmosphere and was expected to know how to fly back down. Connor acted on his thoughts. Connor would go to Hell. No. That didn't seem right. Connor wouldn't go to Hell, that didn't seem right at all. Kevin could hardly breathe.

"Steve was not like me. He was normal. Healthy. He didn't know it was wrong though, we were to have that set straight," Connor couldn't help but chuckle at the wording, "in health that year. After that I became a disease. All the things I liked were warning signs of homosexuality. Boys didn't sing. Boys didn't dance. Boys didn't like the color pink. Boys didn't kiss their best friends unless they had breasts. Only gays did those things. Only Hell bound cursed freaks did those things. Only I did those things."

It seemed that Kevin had broken the wall and now Connor couldn't help but speak. It felt marvelous.

"I was beaten up sometimes. After that I stopped trying out for school musicals. I didn't dance. Steve got a girlfriend in 10th grade. We hadn't spoken since 8th." Connor's voice rose. "I was angry. Angry at Heavenly Father. At Steve. At my oblivious parents. At myself," he whispered once more. "I won't tell you about what happened in those years before 12th grade. I don't really remember them. All I know is that Steve thought he saw me with another boy and so he told my parents. I was sent away. They didn't tell Kath why, and for that I'm grateful. If she knew her brother was some," he nearly spat, "abomination I don't know how she would cope." _Not to mention you're afraid of what she'll think of you. If she'll think you're as doomed as you do._

Kevin was speechless. He had no idea. You would have never guessed by looking at Connor that he was so broken. Or had been anyway. He finally spoke.

"But, you don't feel cursed anymore?" Connor refused to tell Kevin about his new thoughts. He nodded, unable to look Kevin in the eye. "I'm sorry he did that to you. It's your business, not some guy who made memories with you and then dropped them. He should have tried to help you or something." It's not like he needs any help Kevin.

Connor's head snapped up. Kevin was apologizing on Steve's behalf. The Mormon poster boy wasn't pushing him away or spouting scripture he sees written on signs at rallies. He was apologizing. Connor's stomach felt warm.

Kevin looked at Connor. Really looked at him. At his hair with red and brown hand in hand. At his eyes that were a clouded sky. At his face that was strong and lost. At his mouth. Kevin had never looked at Connor's mouth. He was now though. It was slightly chapped and open. He couldn't not think about his mouth now. He barely noticed when he moved his head closer to Connor's. He glanced at the other's eyes again. They were an ocean trench. He felt his breath hit Connor's. And then it happened.

Their lips met in the slightest, most chaste thing ever recorded in the history of man.

It was short and sweet and had Kevin pulling away for air. While he caught his breath, his mind was a few steps behind Connor latched onto his neck and Kevin moaned. He couldn't help it. The bite Connor gave him caused a switch to flip and break away entirely. The crack in the dam crumbled away until nothing but water gushed through. He went for that glorious mouth once more. Not really sure as to what he was doing he bit Connor's lip. The other boy groaned and opened his mouth. His tongue Kevin decided was something else. It was soft and wet and hot. Connor tasted like fire and mint. The sensation of his breath on his face when his mouth wasn't latched to Kevin's own was ecstasy. When had Kevin's hands become tangled in the fox hair? When had Connor's hands found his chest? His fingers, they danced all along him and grabbed and felt in all these spots Kevin wasn't sure existed, let alone make him feel like that. He was staring Hell in the face and lapped up each piece of sulfur with an eager lick.

Connor's body was electric. Every touch by Kevin caused him to move. To squirm. He grew fixated on the other's neck. Connor had read about how some people found biting arousing. At the time it made him blush, biting hurt. This, this was not biting. It was tasting and Kevin tasted like sweat and salt and heat. His ear. Connor tasted that too, only not as thoroughly for he was distracted by the planes hidden beneath _his_ shirt. And that mouth. Kevin's mouth was a sanctuary. It was hot and tasted of cherries. Always there were cherries. It was obvious Kevin had never kissed before, but he was a fast learner and the nips made Connor want to scream.

And then a bucket of snow.

Kevin was traversing Connor's abdomen when he felt something else. It was hard and when he squeezed it Connor moaned before literally mauling his neck. His eyes had shut, when had that happened? Kevin nearly stopped his wandering hand when he realized Connor was simply sucking his neck, but for some reason he gripped again before realizing what it was he was touching. Kevin froze. Connor noticed. This gave their brains time to process the last five, or was it ten, minutes. Fifteen maybe? They flew to opposite ends of the room. Pupils blown, pants tight, and breath heavy they understood. Connor was elated. Guilt ridden but happy. There was no one here to call him damaged. No parents to send him away. There was just Kevin. Who, with a reaction like that, wanted it just as much as he did.

And Kevin, well he did the only logical thing.

He ran.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note: In the play Kevin acts drunk (obviously I took liberties in the order of events and whatnot) when he drinks the coffee, so I decided to make this more realistic and have so that he actually consumes alcohol. Without knowing it of course. That is all, and don't be mad about the lack of McPriceley in this chapter. All good things take time. **

* * *

Kevin had broken four rules today. He left the mission center, as well as his companion. He was currently drinking his ninth cup of coffee.

And then there was the _other _one.

The kiss.

Kevin found that whenever he thought about what he did with Connor he was ordering another coffee. It wasn't alcohol, but Kevin didn't need the mind numbing effects that came with the forbidden beverage. No, what Kevin needed was clarity. He needed control. Coffee as it seemed provided both of those things while encompassing his mood with its bitter flavor.

Despite the self loathing that began building up the minute he left the mission center Kevin couldn't help but think he had caused Connor distress. He shouldn't have ran, but what else was he supposed to do? In hindsight returning to his room and remaining awake (he wasn't sleeping for a year) would have been a much more intelligent course of action. Now he managed to disregard three other rules along with the sin of...that.

Kevin was beginning to have an inkling that he didn't like Heavenly Father all that much. The jerk was still up on Kolob, laughing at the humans he managed to screw over. Making people gay, and then declaring it's a sin. Good one God. Not that he was gay. Kevin laughed with his mouth not his eyes, and ordered his tenth coffee.

* * *

Connor was a problem solver. He had above average critical thinking skills and perseverance. He could fix a Rubiks cube under two minutes, and at age twelve requested that he be given only puzzles one year as gifts for various occasions. He managed to solve the one thousands piece pictures under eight minutes without interruption, or if forced to leave the game under three days. Connor was a bright person, and prided himself on his natural "Mr. Fix It" talents. The only problem was his lack of leadership abilities. Even as a child Connor remembers Steve thinking of some sort of activity and him following along just short of a step behind, thinking of ways their plans could be executed with more efficiency and style. The fact he was docile did not bother Connor, and it never had.

Until now.

How he had been elected to hold the highest position of their mission center still eludes him. He doesn't exactly ooze confidence like Kevin or charisma like Elder Cunningham. He couldn't even claim to have the most pep like Elder Thomas. Yet here he was pacing the sitting room while everyone else dreamt their non guilt leaden dreams.

Kevin.

Connor decided that above all else he was not going to think about the events that culminated his disappearance. That just wouldn't do for finding the solution, it only served as a distraction, and he already had something else distracting him that refused to leave. The question Connor found himself debating was whether to break the rules and leave the center to search for Kevin alone, which every fiber in his extremely aroused body told him to do, or wake everyone up and have them form a search party. The only problem with that is the additional humiliation of Kevin. The already alienated boy would become a pariah if Connor were to make that call and the other elders would not speak to him for his entire two years spent here. At least that's the scenario that Connor kept relaying.

He decided to compromise. Everyone enjoyed compromise and it usually resulted in both sides being happy at an average level, instead of a grossly disappointed half and an ecstatic half. Connor made sure to wait until his pants barely bulged, that would not sit well with the others, and went to wake Elder Thomas, who was his partner, and Elder Cunningham, who he would force to help if need be. It was quite the silent commotion.

"Elder McKinley," Elder Cunningham squinted, his eyes adjusting to his glasses. "What are you doing?" Elder Thomas didn't even speak. He was not a morning person.

"Look, we have a situation that requires both of you to help." He lowered his voice. "Elder Price has run off, and we need to go find him before something really bad does. I need one of you to stay here in case some one wakes up." His voice was tight. "It would be best if this remained out of the limelight. Elder Price doesn't need anymore negative notice." Connor felt proud of his miniature speech. Sure, the two were barely conscious and he probably didn't sound authoritative, but practice will go a long way. Maybe.

"Why did Elder Price go?" an after thought, "And how did you know?" Elder Thomas made his way to the couch. Connor couldn't help but stifle a laugh. If the elder knew of the events that conspired on the solid cushions, well he figured that he would have pulled a Kevin.

"He was tired of being alone," quick Connor, think of a valid reason why. "I was just, going to the bathroom when I saw him and he just ran." Connor prided himself on the excellent lie. Let the guilt come later. In droves. "Look Elder Cunningham I need you to help me, Elder Thomas already passed out on the couch. We have to find Kevin."

The tone in Elder McKinley's voice was strange to Arnold. He had never heard the other sound even close to pleading, and now that's all he seemed to be doing. Arnold wasn't stupid. He knew that Elder McKinley and Elder Price would meet up in the mornings and talk, well okay granted it was only because he had gotten up to get a glass of water and they happened to be laughing about something on the couch. He panicked and rushed back to his room with a type of grace he didn't know he had. Arnold wished he was the one who became best friends with Elder Price. McKinley wasn't even the other's companion. _He was_, so why is it that he had to be humiliated on the first day by none other than his "best friend." He chalked up the dismayed sound and broken tang in Elder McKinley's voice as concern for his best friend.

"You mean Elder Price?" That's all Arnold could bring himself to say. It was five in the morning, this was a bit much for his plate at the current moment. Could he take a number and wait his turn?

Connor blanched. Had he really slipped? After all this time of paying particular attention when addressing Kevin he screws up in front of Elder Cunningham, the Mormon Prodigy? Really? He buried his face in his hands. Sighing he looks up again, not sure what to do.

Arnold saw something once his eyes met Elder McKinley's. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but he knew that it involved first names, laughter, hugs, and early morning trysts. Arnold wished he wasn't so dang nice when it came to people. _More like sensitive._ Whatever. He was a man now, he didn't have to argue with his subconscious about being some overly emotional loser. Which he wasn't.

"It can be Kevin between us. I uh won't tell anyone or anything." Arnold berated himself. He sounded ridiculous. Connor smiled. It was small and sad and insignificant, but it was there. That was enough for Arnold.

"Thanks," a hand out, "Connor."

Arnold blinked. He wasn't quite sure what just happened and he had no idea what was going on with Elder Price and Connor, but he knew one thing. This was his first friend, and he was not going to mess this one up.

"Arnold," shake.

* * *

Kevin was almost sure there had been liquor in the coffee, because really once the room starts swirling and you begin mumbling slurred sentiments to yourself about failure there's something wrong. He didn't mind. No that was a lie, he was drowning in guilt and it tasted of coffee and Connor.

He assumed the voice he heard call out to him had been part of this nightmare. That's all this was. Just a...a Spooky Mormon Hell Dream. So why was it that the voice wouldn't shut up? Kevin's head began to throb.

Arnold found Kevin first. He was hunched over the counter of some seedy adult coffee stand. There were espresso machines lined up next to margarita mixers. Arnold sincerely hoped Kevin ordered water.

"Hey buddy," the boy didn't even flinch. "How are you?" Elder Price turned to face him and Arnold would have sworn. He definitely ordered a coffee. Or ninety.

"Oh, just great. But more about you, Prophet Cunningham. That's what they call you right? It's all about you," the last word drawn out to three syllables. Kevin decided he liked coffee, or whatever it was he was drinking. He was never this honest about his feelings. It felt wonderful. He felt like he could face his father if he really wanted to.

Arnold barely understood what Elder Price said. All he got was that the other thought it was hilarious he was considered a prophet. Even though Arnold hadn't fed the other's ego for three months the hero worship was still there. He felt like he was watching Luke Skywalker shake the Emperor's hand. It was disheartening to say the least.

"What happened to you Elder Price?"

"What happened? I woke up, that's what happened," Kevin laughed and walked over to Elder Cunningham. Well it was more of a stumble, but as dignified as one heavily imbibed with alcohol could manage.

"Of course you did," Arnold laughed slightly, weakly. _Don't lose your cool_. "You drank like 20 cups of coffee." Good one Arnold, now when he hits you at least he'll have a good reason.

Kevin swayed. He didn't feel too good. The floor was jumping up and down.

"Look since you're my companion and stuff I kind of need you to come back to the center." Arnold shrugged and smiled. He still couldn't figure out why he smiled in situations like this. What he really wanted to do was yell at the glassy eyed boy. Instead there was a stupid, nervous grin and a thin layer of sweat. "Well, come on," he reached out to steady the tipsy boy. His normally perfect hair was unruly and his shirt was untucked. It was the least presentable Arnold had ever seen Elder Price.

"What do I say?" The laugh that accompanied the question was short and harsh. Arnold jumped. "I say let's just admit the truth." A wayward finger pointed in his direction. "You think," narrowed eyes, "I'm a big jerk and that I suck." At a different time Arnold would have debated if that last word was a swear.

"No, I don't. Now let's get out of here." Arnold couldn't believe Elder Price thought he hated him. It was basically the complete opposite. He would discuss this in further detail with the other when he would actually remember.

"Don't touch me," it was growled out and Arnold nearly pulled out his hair. Why couldn't Connor have found him? At least Elder Price would have listened to the red head. The last notion nearly made Arnold slap himself.

"I guess I should tell Connor you-"

"Don't say that. Only I get to call him that." Arnold sighed. He was dealing with a child. A drunk child.

"Well it doesn't matter because he thinks you ran away for good."

"Really?" Elder Price looked like a wounded puppy. Arnold decided then that he was not going to break the alcohol rule. Ever.

"Yeah," pause, "and he's really sad about that." Arnold would have clapped himself on his back.

"I didn't mean to do that." Kevin frowned. Why had he left again? Oh right, he couldn't drink that one away. Still all he wanted was to go back to cuddling Connor on the couch. He bet that the other would make his headache go away. And that he would be warm and smell good, that way Kevin could just fall asleep with the other boy and not feel sick.

"Right, so let's head back and talk okay." Arnold knew in that instant he would make a great dad (without the obvious cocky attitude that Kevin often portrayed), and in the process be nothing like his father. He thought about how Naba would make the perfect mother. Kind, fair, and nice. He reached out to Elder Price, confident now.

Kevin's stomach lurched in two directions at once. Before he knew what was happening 20 cups of Irish coffee ended up on Elder Cunningham's polished shoes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: Shorter, I know, but I dislike stories without plot and I _have _to write it this way. I apologize, but in like two chapters we shall get to the good stuff. Bonus points if anyone knows were the "make 'em dig ditches" reference is from. **

* * *

Arnold was at a loss. He was currently standing with vomit on his shoes and an unconscious Mormon sprawled out in starfish formation on dusty ground. The sun had barely risen and the day had begun marvelously. Was he supposed to drag Elder Price back to the center? He sincerely hoped not. Arnold was not the most physically fit human being, so Elder Price would probably end up with some horrible disease or infection from various cuts he would receive while being dragged on the ground for over a mile. Arnold had been contemplating an attempt at using the force to lift the fallen boy when something wonderful happened, well more like someone.

"Elder Cunningham, why is the quite white boy sleeping on the ground?" Arnold turned toward Naba. His heart suddenly became much louder and his focus less clear. She tended to have that effect on him.

"Oh, well he uh, had a nervous breakdown," and the nonchalant award goes to, "So um, he came here and drank some spiked coffee. I don't think he knew it was special coffee though, so he had too much, and now I have to drag him back to the center." Way to ramble Arnold. Now Naba will think you're some inept loser who doesn't know what he's doing. Not that Arnold actually knew what he was doing in the first place anyway.

"Oh, why did he have a 'nervous breakdown?'" Arnold wanted to hug her. The quotation gesture was adorable, the best part being she learned it from him.

"I'm not sure, but I want to get him back before something shows up to kill him or whatever." In retrospect Arnold probably shouldn't have been so disregarding of Elder Price, but come on! It was Naba, and that was a good enough reason for anything.

"I will help you then," a smile with pearl teeth and sunbeam eyes.

"Oh, no it's," before Arnold could finish she had lifted Elder Price and balanced him on her shoulder. He rushed over to take the other side.

"You are our prophet, I will help you." Arnold sighed. He wished she thought of him as just Arnold, not as prophet or elder. He supposed since Elder McKinley was now Connor he could be Arnold with Naba.

"You can just call me Arnold," a pause, "If you want," a hasty addition to save himself the humiliation of her inevitable rejection.

"Okay Arnold." He had to remind himself to move. She said okay. A girl said okay to him. Arnold Walter Cunningham. Elder Price's surprisingly heavy weight no longer bothered him. Arnold was on a cloud, and he didn't plan on leaving. "Arnold, I have a question about The Book of Mormon."

"Oh yeah, uh what?" Arnold swallowed. He smiled, and this time it was not out of joy.

"Why is it that when Joseph Smith fucked the frog his AIDS went away, but now AIDS does not leave? Even if you have sex with a frog." Arnold plummeted from his cloud, which had evaporated never to return again. He hadn't let any of the other elders know about his nifty little trick for getting the Africans to listen. It wasn't that big of a deal, just a few white lies to make the story more relatable. Arnold already had this argument with himself. He won naturally.

"Uh, it's only because the frogs God gave Joseph Smith were magical. They did more than just cure AIDS. They healed people too." Still kind of close to the original right? "Like all the girls who had been circumcised. Joseph rubbed it on them and their uh," don't stutter, "c-clitoris' came back." Arnold thought that sounded stupid, but Naba had been listening to every word. Apparently she thought it was totally logical. She nodded with a concentrated appearance Arnold found very attractive.

"I see, I must tell the village then. Thank you pro-" she caught herself, "Arnold."

Arnold smiled and began telling her about Salt Lake City, adding just a little bit extra if only to see her smile.

* * *

Connor had asked every African if they had seen Kevin. Twice. With the exception of Naba who was nowhere to be found. Most didn't know who he was until Connor gave the description of quiet, white, brown hair and eyes, and a frown. Connor knew Kevin wasn't constantly in a bad mood when in the village, but the Africans rarely paid attention to him. On days it did bother him Connor would hear all about it later.

He was pacing in a pattern he created to calm himself down. Circle clockwise, left, right, up, left, down, repeat. It was not working. His synapses were going into overdrive. The Africans thought he looked like a madman. Then Connor saw it, or rather them.

He could spot Arnold miles away and quite easily in a crowd, even if he wasn't looking for him. He had an appearance that was rather distinguishable. His twig hair a mile high, small legs, larger upper body, and huge black frames. Naba he assumed was the girl. Squinting he saw her tattered blue dress she only wore consciously when speaking to Arnold, which was all the time. They were supporting a person whose feet were dragging on the ground, their legs stiff and inactive. It was Kevin.

Running up Connor's heart began to palpitate. While doing his pace pattern he had time to think about things. About the kiss. About Kevin's reaction and his sudden cold feet. Connor knew right then and there that there was no turning it off, at least for him. No matter how many times he prayed or went away to hospitals or camps. Connor was gay and he was going to Hell, but perhaps it was like that for every homosexual.

He remembers the "former" gay counselors from Wilkon's Salvation Cure Camp (one of the many places his parents sent him). One incident he will never forget, and initially blamed it on why the camp didn't fix him. He knows better now. The youngest counselor had been Mitch Haberson, and he was twenty-one. Connor had been eighteen. Mitch was a reformed homosexual. Other than the fact he had previously had sexual attraction to boys Mitch had been very masculine. He was tall, muscular, tan, short black hair, and had muddy eyes. Connor will never forget his voice. It was as if he gargled marbles constantly. In short Mitch was a very attractive man.

One of the activities to man them up was to dig. They were sent outside in the heat of an August in Utah and made to dig huge ditches. No purpose, no planting which is what Connor wanted to do, just digging. It was very spread out so as not to feel tempted to gaze upon the flesh of those who removed their shirts to cool down, and the counselors would patrol on the outer edges shouting psalms and encouragement. Connor had been hot, but at the time still wore the Mormon underwear and thus his shirt stayed on. He will always wonder why Mitch picked him. A scrawny midget who lacked any and all sex appeal.

Connor had been shoveling his trench for the thirty first time that summer. It was deep and obscure, most of the time counselors never came to his area and if you walked by without looking down you couldn't see what was going on inside. Connor had been thinking about what Hell would be like when he felt arms encircle him. He stiffened and turned to see hooded eyes staring at him.

"Counselor Haberson, what are you doing?" Connor's voice was high and tight. This is not what straight boys do.

"Nothing Connor, just be quiet," he lowered himself down and pushed Connor to the side of the hole until his back was pressed into the crumbling earth. Connor began to panic.

"Please, I think we should go. I won't tell anyone, just-" Connor never got to finish. Mitch Haberson, reformed homosexual, gave Connor his first and only blow job. It wasn't much, but to someone like Connor it was ecstasy in the most shameful way. He had never been touched, or touched himself, in that manner. Connor was drowning in dry desert air and shame. To this day he still feels the shame. It was over just as quickly as it started, but it felt like Connor had been falling for an eternity. That's the best he could describe the sensation. A rush that took no time at all but left your heart beating for years after (not that Connor harbored any lust toward Mitch).

After that Connor grew despondent. He saw no point in trying if a supposedly cured man was going down on campers. His motto became a sort of feeling repression type of anthem he like to call, "Turn it off." Pretend there was nothing wrong and just let everyone assume he was straight, which is what people tend to do anyway. Connor knew he would be safe as long as he never initiated any sort of physical intimacy with another boy. That plan is currently swirling down towards the sewers, the drain nearly clogged with the failure.

And now he was faced with a rather troubling problem. Continents away from family, with a person who wasn't his savior, just the opposite in fact, and several unsuspecting and oblivious Mormons the option of flicking the lights on seemed like a much more desirable prospect. He would have to speak with Kevin before thinking anything else too blasphemous.

"Hi," he waved, "Where did you find him?" Arnold heaved and looked up, he was already sweating. Connor was going to find out about Elder Price's little adventure sooner or later, he might as well band-aid it.

"At a coffee bar. Bar having the meaning of an establishment that sells alcoholic beverages, and well you can guess the coffee part." Arnold's smile was sheepish. Connor would probably not want to be friends anymore, and it wasn't even his fault. Go figure.

"It is not Arnold's fault that the white boy threw up," Arnold shifted his head to look at Naba. He mouthed thank you, but he knew she didn't quite understand. She started gaping like a fish "mimicking" him. He snickered. She blushed.

"Oh my gosh," please be a no, "Did he drink like beer or something?" Connor wasn't sure how much beer you needed to drink to throw up, but he assumed normal coffee didn't do that to you.

"No," Arnold laughed. The other had no idea about the mechanics of alcohol. "He just ordered coffee, but he probably didn't know it was spiked. Or what normal coffee tastes like. Yeah," Arnold turned to Naba, "Thanks Naba, but Connor and I need to take Elder Price back to the mission center. I'll see you later." She nodded and left, allowing Connor to take hold of Elder Price.

Instantaneously Kevin's face inched into Connor's neck and inhaled. His eyes fluttered open and his gave a wobbly smile. Connor glanced at Arnold. He was staring at Naba's retreating form, which really should be turned into a past time for the shorter boy. He returned his attention back to Kevin, who had been mumbling nonsense, as well as hot air into the crook of his neck, to catch one phrase.

"I really like you Connor." He slipped back into unconsciousness, and Connor was left to pretend he hadn't heard something that completely short circuited the light switch.

"Me too."

Arnold wondered what he had missed, but figured he might as well get used to it if he was to befriend these two.


	11. Chapter 11

**Note: This is the longest chapter, and has a lot of stuff, but it's rather necessary. Not to mention it's not even really that long compared to other fics with like ten thousand word chapters. Lots of references here, I will clarify them on the bottom. Right so, thank you. I tried to keep them in character, but I feel Connor is a bit off? I don't know, please let me know. Things are going to be a bit bittersweet from here on out, but _much _more physical. **

* * *

Kevin decided that light and sound should be made enemies of the state, before realizing he is not in America. He is in Uganda, and has been so for a little over three moths. He also remembers drinking coffee that wasn't coffee. Oh dear. Kevin was definitely going to Hell. Of course that happened to be the moment his muddled mind chose to remember why he stooped so low as to consume what he assumed was coffee, although eh can't really bring himself to care in his less than-no one will ever know he thought this-perfect state. At least he would have company in Hell, not that really wanted Conner to _have _to go. Still…

_Gee Kevin, your most wonderful trait is of course your selflessness. _

Kevin couldn't even argue with himself on that one.

He was in his bed, but he had been stripped down to his underwear. His first reaction was panic, but he couldn't muster up enough energy for a full blown attack like this morning's episode. He was tired, and his mouth had the stale flavor of stomach acid. Not to mention his teeth felt like they had been coated in fuzz. Each time he made an attempt to get out of bed and brush his teeth his stomach threatened to overflow again. It was a terrible condition and Kevin understood why they were not supposed to consume these horrible things.

"Hey, you're up." Kevin turned to see a smiling Elder Cunningham. He was NOT disappointed that Connor was nowhere be seen. Kevin felt like he was in a Degas painting. Who would have thought this is where his life would go. He certainly wouldn't have guessed.

"Uh, do you have gum or something?" Kevin begins to think of flashes of an inebriated version of himself laughing and leering at Elder Cunningham. He flushes, ashamed.

"Yep, for the breath right. Yeah, my dad would always make me get him gum when he was too sick to get out of bed to brush his teeth. I hope mint is okay, it's all I could find." Kevin nods and notes that Elder Cunningham was whispering. It was the first time he had heard the other sound even close to the volume of normal human beings, although lately Kevin didn't even know what normal was anymore.

"I thought," Kevin didn't want to overstep his bounds.

"My parents are converts, but they still break some rules. My dad will drink on occasion and my mom sneaks cigarettes when she thinks I'm not paying attention." Elder Cunningham jumps up and the sudden movement makes Kevin's eyes swim. He shuts them and accepts the gum. It's not quite the same as brushing his teeth, but as long as he can work with the placebo it's alright. "Oh right, I forgot, light really isn't your best friend at the moment." Kevin notices the pause and slight wince at the phrasing used by the other. More shame colors his face. The elder rushes to the window and draws the blinds. Kevin's head instantly cools and his eyes stop squinting, not that he realized they had been doing so in the first place.

"Thank you," it's barely heard. A breath of a sentence really.

"No problem elder," Kevin looks at Elder Cunningham and knows he prolonged the apology way too long. This was a nice person. A better man than he, even if Kevin was too proud to ever say _that. _

"I'm sorry." Kevin cringed. That was the worst apology he had ever heard. He really should practice those. Elder Cunningham probably thought he was rushing it to get it done with. A clean slate. Kevin wondered if it was possible for the slate to break. Probably.

Arnold froze. Kevin Price, former Mormon Superman, had apologized to him. Him of all people. Granted the other was hung over, but Arnold didn't care. That's all he was waiting for, and now he was ready to begin their partnership over again. This time it would just be "you and me," not the mostly Kevin part like it had been before. Arnold was rather proud of his newly acquired back bone. Uganda sure did "man him up."

"Hello, I'm Arnold," he smiled and held out his hand. Kevin took a moment to process what Elder Cunningham was doing. Relief was all he felt when he took the other's hand.

"I'm Kevin."

"Right, so do you want to tell me why you had a Jennifer Lopez worthy melt down or what?" Arnold was over sounding stupid. He had total leverage over Kevin now, saying weird pop culture references was not worth worrying about. Not to mention Kevin was unlikely to remember this conversation. He hoped, although that realization came with a resentful undertone.

Kevin sighed. He really didn't want to think about why he was going to Hell. Or that Connor was a fantastic kisser. Not to mention his guard was not exactly up and running, which left room for traitorous thoughts.

"Where's Connor?" Arnold deflated. He supposed it was foolish to think that they would instantly become the best friends he always dreamed of having.

"He had to come up with some reason why you and I had to stay here today." Kevin frowned and retreated to the cocoon he formed out of the blankets. "But he stayed until he absolutely had to go. He muttered something about talking when you woke up." _Subtle Arnold, he won't even be suspicious with that wording. _

Kevin didn't say anything. He smiled though. Connor still cared, even after his misguided attempt to solve the rather obvious problem, which Arnold wanted to be told about. Yeah, that wasn't happening anytime soon, even if they had made up.

"Great," Kevin's head gave a particularly painful throb. "Hey, pal, can I just sleep until Connor gets back? I feel really awful." The question bothered Arnold slightly, but he knew all things take time. Including creating a lasting friendship that would surpass that of the current one had between Connor and Kevin. Not that Arnold had anything against Connor, other than the fact he was laughing it up with his coulda-shoulda-woulda best friend to be. The red head was actually really cool when not obsessing over musicals or tap dancing. Or you know, stealing mission companions. Arnold also knew that hangovers were brutal, and Kevin's was layered with a dusting of guilt as well. If nothing else Arnold was the definition of empathy.

"Sure, I'll go read or something. I think one of the elders left a copy of the Book out. See you later," Arnold had been tempted to say best friend, but recalled the problems that phrase caused last use. Kevin noticed the lack of address and sighed. He was thankful in a poignant sense. He sincerely hoped that one day they could interchange their names with the term and not think it a blatant lie.

An incapacitated Mormon slips into a dreamless void, while a lonely "prophet" imagines more tales to tell.

* * *

Connor was not up to his top performance today.

_I really like you, Connor._

There we go again. That is the main problem. He can't get what Kevin confessed? said? earlier out of his head. It proved very distracting. Connor could not do his duties without drifting off to some demented fantasy in which him and Kevin were free to do as they pleased, and some of those thing involved nakedness and kissing. Lots of kissing. All over.

_For Heavenly Father's sake pull yourself together! _

Connor had been so tempted to kiss Kevin on the cheek before he left, or just go all Annie Wilkes on the poor soul and whisk him to a place where they could just be. Connor was never one for romance, although just like other closets he was one at heart. He had images of him and some man going to Broadway and watching plays together, or watching really obscure movies that weren't actually half bad while throwing burnt popcorn at one another. Those thoughts made his insides turn to goo and any shred of his masculinity slowly atrophy until he realized what he was doing and that he should not be doing it.

Yet thinking of doing those thing with Kevin, well that was something else. He would insist they go to Orlando, and they would run around and Connor would laugh at Kevin's unhealthy obsession with the costumed characters. Mercy and luck to those unfortunate people. They would hold hands and go on all the stupid little kid rides like the teacups or it's a small world. Everything would be wonderful and perfect, and there would even been a photo of them with ridiculous tourist trap items because Kevin would _have _to buy them as a "memory." And…

_I really like-_

Stop it! Connor felt like slapping himself. He did it. Again. For what had to be the eightieth time. No matter how many times he caught himself he always ended up thinking about Kevin, Kevin, Kevin! To top it all off he had been so absorbed in his musing he missed whatever Elder Thomas had just said. For the third time. He figured at this point he might as well agree.

"Yeah, that's cool."

"Really? You think we're ready?"

"Absolutely." _You have got to be the worst district leader in the history of district leaders McKinley. _ Connor smiled and Elder Thomas returned a real grin.

"I'll be sure to let them know then," with that he trotted off. It was a borderline skip, but Connor wouldn't say anything about the effeminate movement, after all it was Elder Thomas and it would have worried him if the other wasn't in fact prancing about as his mode of transport. He had assumed that whatever the news was it had to do with the Africans wanting to go even further outward on their mission to spread the word. Nothing too important.

_I really-_

This time Connor really did slap himself. He couldn't go five minutes without thinking about it. Five freaking minutes! And did he seriously just brush off the thought of more conversions? This was a more serious matter than he thought.

Nonetheless all Connor really wanted was to go back to the center and wait for Kevin to awaken. He didn't want the other to think he abandoned him, especially when all he wants to do is jump the confused Mormon's bones. That's what Connor was chalking up Kevin's actions to. Confusion.

He pretended that didn't bother him at all.

In fact he was being kind. When they spoke, which they would today, Connor would drop that excuse for Kevin as an out. Then Kevin would ignore him, and they would have minimal communication for the rest of their time spent in Uganda. Connor's chest burned at the thought and his thoughts darkened, but it was the right thing to do. Why is it that the right thing to do always seemed to give up whatever made you happy in exchange for nothing? Connor found himself unable to answer, his frown deepening.

_I-_

Connor nearly shouted. He had to create a song for his motto or something, because clearly he failed to act upon it, so really what was the point of having one? Of course this line of thinking unlocked an entirely different dimension of gay friendly scenarios in which everything is peachy in the long run.

Yeah, that's definitely not a possibility.

Sighing Connor headed back to the mission center. The faster this was shoved into a tiny box and crushed the better. His mother, she had been so proud when he left the camps "reformed." He remembers her blue eyes crinkle and her lipstick covered mouth smile with a kind of relief for him and their reputation. His father had grown more distant since the incident. More stern and work rather than family oriented, but Connor barely saw a difference from his previous behavior before the cards had been placed face up on the table anyway. His sister still didn't know. Kath had been under the impression that he had won a trip to Salt Lake for upstanding service in the church, and why would anyone bother to correct her? Connor assumed she would treat him with the same cautionary love as their mother, but slowly slip away until her face blurred into nothing but what photographs have to offer like their father was in the process of doing. That thought scared Connor more than anything.

The maelstrom of memories and worries churned and left Connor thinking one thing. If he was so determined to end this, then why had his response been, "Me too," out of all the words in the English language he could have chosen? For all the answers and predictions Connor's clever logic based brain could pull up in seconds he found that in this one instance he drew nothing.

_I really like you. _

The wrongness of the entire thing loomed about in the manner of a giant nimbostratus cloud, but for that one instant Connor didn't bother hiding his smile as he approached the mission center, safely hidden by a big, naïve umbrella.

* * *

Kevin had not been dreaming about Orlando. In fact he had not been dreaming. He had been nightmaring. He decided the minute he thought of the word that it was now a valid contribution to society and he would ring Oxford about it's admission into their oh so prestigious dictionary. There was really no other way of saying, verb wise, one was having a bad dream. Kevin suddenly understood why Connor preferred sleeping with him on a stone couch than alone in a, albeit not by much, more comfortable bed. To say Hell Dreams were scary was the award winning understatement of the year. Basically the Oscar.

Kevin is burning. He can feel his skin turning to paper and flaking into the dusty air and pervading his eyes, drying them up until he can't blink. He is bald and, despite the vanity of being semi-obsessed with his hair, Kevin is frightened by the lack of overgrown dead cells only because it seems he has been scalped. He knew his hair was fantastic, but this was down right cruel.

The air reeked of vodka, which nearly caused him to vomit once more, and coffee, which he would never admit to enjoying the scent of. Formless shadows slunk about behind rocks and dangled from stalactites like inky tears. He saw the faces of horrible people fade in and out in rapid succession. Hitler, Khan, Dahmer, and Cochran only a few among thousands. All of this while screams of the damned played in harmonious cacophony, and Kevin was one of them.

And then there was Connor. His face half flesh and half bone. His eyes were not the color of ocean trenches, or Heaven, or the blue between clouds. They were empty sockets filled with charcoal and anger and hate. Blame. He was screaming, but Kevin could not hear what. It hurt to listen, really listen, but once he did he managed to discern the following.

"Kevin, wake up. You need to wake up."

Eyes snapping open and mouth gasping had the circumstance been different the situation would appear overly sexual to Kevin. Instead he stared at Connor and his eyes. His cornflower color of concern. He said nothing other than the words that could have gone with his action of pulling Connor onto the bed and hugging him.

Connor let it happen, selfishly hugging back.

Arnold blushed at the open affection and wondered if bromance was an appropriate term for the friendship between Connor and Kevin. If it was a friendship in the first place that is. He cleared his throat. Connor made a half hearted attempt at rising and turning to him, still entangled in Kevin's octopus arms.

"Uh, would you mind reading elsewhere Arnold? Kevin and I need to speak." What Arnold wanted to do and what he did were two very different things. Arnold _wanted_ to demand answers and just exactly what the now suspicious "bruise" on Kevin's neck was. He also _wanted_ to wash his hands and reevaluate his views on homosexuality. He _wanted_ to be told the truth and nothing but the truth. Instead he thought about how if it happened between him and Naba and how he would want it private. Special. He thought about how Connor still used first names with him and was being kind. So while Arnold wished to be in the loop he settled with being a few centimeters out and nodded. He left and didn't even attempt to eavesdrop, even if he really, really wanted to.

Connor returned to Kevin, thankful for Arnold's ability to understand.

"Connor, don't drink. Ever." That warning through mumbled fatigue was enough to liquidate the tension that threatened to drown Connor. He couldn't help but laugh out right and Kevin couldn't help but be proud he got the magnificent sound into the air. The plan of an out nearly forgotten already.

"Yeah, well that's what you get for breaking the rules and running off." He chose to let Kevin have a chance at the first word, considering the other was not ever one to be second for anything. Connor thought he was being rather generous. Kevin did not.

"Right. That." Kevin couldn't help but turn away from Connor, his tone flat. Of course he was left to broach the topic while the stupid red head got to skirt the awkwardness that was about to be Kevin Michael Price. Connor and his dumb hair that was really too soft to be considered healthy.

Connor sank into the mattress. His arms curling around Kevin, effectively spooning him. He didn't care at this point, as long as they weren't kissing or...doing other stuff it was okay. Kevin shared the same opinion. They lay that way for what seemed like hours, but was only ten minutes or so. Connor thought Kevin had slipped into sleep again, but his breathing was to erratic for that. Come to think of it Connor seemed to be out of breath as well. Kevin tended to have that sort of control over his lungs at odd instances, and he was too tired to fight what he knew this was turning into. Connor was going to have to suck it up and be the leader he was ill fittingly chosen to be.

"Did you mean it?"

"What?" Kevin knew what he meant but dragged the moment on anyway.

"What you said," Connor sucked in the air, "about liking me. Did you mean it?" Connor was screaming. This was not the plan. Not even close. He was supposed to ask if he was confused or say he was confused. It wasn't supposed to happen again. Nonetheless the words just tumbled out, and for once Connor could not control his brain's connect with his mouth.

Kevin froze. His body literally stiffened to the point where he couldn't move his mouth to say a single thing, even if it was to affirm something he should be denying. That he desperately wanted to shake his head and negate whatever nonsense his out of control heart forced his mouth to say. Instead he simply remained in between Connor's arms. His breath came out in whispers that ghosted across the skin of Connor's forearm.

"Because, I meant what I said."

Connor was on the verge of tears. This was wrong. He was going to Hell. Kevin would hate him. This problem, he was unable to fix it. He didn't even want to, and thought made him nearly vomit.

Kevin was flying and falling all at once.

That horrible traitorous part of Kevin was shooting to the very center of the atmosphere. The piece of his soul that would end up in Hell smelling of sulfur and burnt skin. That selfish section in his otherwise very faithful being was soaring. It belonged to his heart, which had begun to beat in acquiesce with a hummingbird's wings. With those words Kevin felt lighter than air. Lighter than the gas that filled up Macy Day parade balloons. He felt happy, which is saying something because really the only time Kevin ever recalls being happy was with Connor. He loved his family, but they were stress inducing factors that Kevin couldn't play twenty questions turned fifty questions with laughs interrupting bone honest answers every five minutes. He doesn't even remember his former acquaintances, which is all he ever actually referred to his chosen companions as when no one else was listening. It was all Connor, and Kevin felt like his whole life had been simply a waiting room to the experience that was Connor James McKinley. The boy who danced when he thought no one was watching, and blushed when he was caught. The man who could make Kevin want nothing more than to up and vanish from all the pressures threatening to burst his stomach. The person Kevin found made his control waver in the biggest of ways. Yes, this part of the confused boy was thrilled at the admission and grew the most brilliant wings.

Yet the other half, that dwindled and shrunk under the weight of his care free feelings, was tumbling to the very core of the Earth. Molten nickel and all. The obligations of everyday life, whether it was to the church, family, or Heavenly Father (who wasn't exactly making Kevin tingle with devotion at the moment anyway), were painful realities left to continuously slap Kevin until his face was one single bruise. Kevin could handle denial into the Celestial Kingdom. He could live with knowing he would end up in Hell. What Kevin had trouble with was disappointing and disgusting his family. His father. Kevin knew what his father would do if he knew that his perfect son was currently cuddling a boy he had kissed less than twenty four hours prior. He would deliver him a swift punch to the gut and ship him off to some clinic. The punch would not have been his first, that's for sure. This part, Kevin's brain most likely, was thrashing and kicking and biting for control. For normalcy. Whatever that was.

Kevin was tired. He couldn't fight whatever this was. It was like fighting gravity, and they had already leaped off the cliff for some reason neither could really explain with a logical, right answer. It's not like it would escalate past kissing. Kevin could reign in the situation and control it before it got that far. He refused to let something like that happen, even if it was a girl he was having this problem with he wouldn't permit anymore than kissing. And kissing was okay. It had to be.

Kevin pretended his judgment made perfect sense and turned to Connor.

"I did. I meant it," he eyes Connor's mouth. Thoughts hazy once more for an entirely different reason. "But, it," he stops. Unsure of what he can say.

"It won't go far. It won't mean anything," _yes, it will. To you it will mean everything._ "We will be careful. Only kisses." Connor hoped his voice hadn't wavered. He, he had failed. Heavenly Father had given him this obvious opportunity to solve this before it got out of hand and he just couldn't bring himself to. He was selfish and Hell bound and absolutely willing to break his rule for this boy. This amazing boy. His taste of Kevin was his undoing. He was already addicted, and he couldn't bring himself to care. No, that was a lie, but Connor figured if he had already slipped this far he was permitted to lie as well. Just this once Connor put himself first. If hearing this was meaningless got Connor more of Kevin then he would shout it, even if it meant placing his own heart in a paper shredder and watching it become pulpier than the freshest carton of Tropicana.

Kevin smiles. He leans in and pecks Connor on the lips, not wanting to expose the other to his foul breath. Connor shuts his eyes and leans into the sensation. Reassurance washes over him as Kevin burrows his face into his neck, slowly becoming limp as he drifts away. It's a shame that the guilt nearly encases the euphoria that had been Kevin's agreement. Nearly.

Once he is sure Kevin won't notice Connor begins to drift as well. It is only later, thinking back, that he realizes he had been crying.

* * *

**References:  
**

**Normally I would say, "Guess away," but it won't be as funny if you don't know what it is so...  
**

**Not to mention it's really obvious, the references. Not hidden like the last chapter.**

**We all know J-Lo and her reputation. If not let's just say she is a DIVA. She flips over anything. Very volatile.  
**

**Annie Wilkes is a character from Steven King's _Misery. _Creepiest fucker out there. She basically abducts this man and forces him to do all this shit because she "loves" him.  
**

**The people in the song _Spooky Mormon Hell Dream_ feature.  
**

**Uh I think that's it. Not a lot, but clarification is necessary.  
**

**I'll stop being irritating now.  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**Note: Sorry about the delay, I have exams and couldn't find the time to post this. It may be this way for a while, but soon more normal, and reliable, times will return. Thank you. **

* * *

Arnold was worried, and his body chose to involuntarily show this by creating a two inch rut in front of his door. He did not plan on walking in to find something inappropriate. Violence is what he tells himself, but after putting fifty ad fifty together he's basically one hundred percent positive that he wouldn't walk in on a fist fight. He's just not quite sure he wants to see anything else.

_Man up. You can handle anything that's thrown your way. _

Arnold puffs his chest, only to feel his legs wobbling and his stupid nervous smile in place. His mantra of, "Man up," is in constant repeat as he pushes through the door eyes half open and half squinted through the veil of his fingers.

They were unmoving in the same bed.

Asleep.

Arnold is over joyed, but confused as to why the two felt the need to do this now. While in Africa. Where it's illegal. On their mission. Nonetheless Arnold decides he will do as any good friend, or what he assumed good friends did, and cover for them, even if they don't know that he's doing it. Not to mention he isn't sure if whatever the two were doing was morally acceptable, but why wouldn't it be right? Right. Actually he was counting on them not knowing what exactly he was doing most of the time when it came to this rather touchy situation. One thing Arnold was positive was he was not having that conversation with them anytime soon about what he imagined a _very _awkward and _very _painful subject he didn't have _that _much business with (he was just their friend after all). Upon deciding that he was in fact a really awesome friend and those jerks back home can't even fathom what they're missing Arnold begins his covert operation.

He hums the Star Wars score very, very loudly.

Backtrack a bit. He returns to the hallway and then begins humming. It's enough to jolt Connor, an insanely light sleeper, who shakes Kevin, no longer that hung over. They assume it's simply Arnold being Arnold and Connor leaps from the bed more graceful than Bambi's dead mother, or at least he'd like to think so. Kevin laughs and Connor blushes. The air is light. Arnold makes his second, presumably first, entrance into the room. Humming all the way.

"Hey guys," he's genuinely happy that the dynamic duo is no longer arguing, so the pep in his voice is unfeigned. "So now that that's all fixed or whatever," _even having friends doesn't make you less awkward. Go figure. _ "Do you wanna go to the center room and play like Scrabble or something? It's not game Friday, but it could be fun." Arnold twitches his fingers at his sides and waits, unaware that his pitch returned to it's normal nasal frequency. Or was it throaty? He's not sure which of the boy's who told him so all those years ago was right.

Kevin sits up, his hair unruly, and smiles. He can't seem to stop smiling after all that stuff was "resolved" for the time being. He could do for a little mindless game of Scrabble. And a shower. He was glad Arnold was trying, and he would be all too happy to try just as hard to fix what he broke.

"Sure thing pal, I just need to shower first." Connor pretends not to blush at envisioning Kevin in the shower. Arnold pretends not to notice.

* * *

Their Scrabble set was missing three 'r's and one 'w'. No one would notice until nearly 8 months of playing the game sporadically only to have Elder Thomas spill the entire bag and Connor and Kevin set out to pick up each piece. A cleaning crew that consists of a borderline obsessive compulsive and pattern seeking anxiety case is not efficient, but nonetheless the discovery was made.

Currently, five months prior, Arnold was twiddling his thumbs and staring at what was secretly the only 'w' in the entire game. Connor was trying and failing to not think of Kevin in the shower. It's not his fault the running water and previous events and slight kiss decided to toy with his brain and make it ridiculously difficult to think of anything else. He glanced at Arnold. He was squinting through his thick rimmed spectacles and mouthing to be words.

Connor wondered if the other suspected anything because of what he saw previously. He watches Arnold mouth Bilbo and reconsiders his slight panic. There was no way, at least not with this guy. No offense to Arnold of course, it's just well, he didn't come off as particularly intuitive. Or wary of social cues and proprieties. In fact he seemed completely inept at interacting with humans period. Connor didn't really mind though, it made for interesting conversation.

"Hey, are we allowed to make up words with this game?" Connor blinks with his momentary stunned thought process. Has Arnold ever played this before? Suddenly he laughs, tossing out a question that would be considered mean had it been dead panned.

"Did you really just ask that?" Connor is still laughing, Arnold frowns. An indignant hey escapes.

"Well, I never had the time. I was busy with," _good one, it's not like you can say friends. Or school._ Arnold kind of just floated by in school. Had the art of escapism been a class that would have been his only one hundred. Along with English, if they ever did any science fiction that is (which was never). He just trails off hoping Connor will understand. Thankfully he does.

"Oh, er," _wow Connor, you are a high class jerk_. "It's not really that hard to learn. I didn't play until I was like eighteen." Connor had really been that age divided by 3, but whatever. He was saving grace, even if Arnold knew he was lying. "Someone starts by spelling a word with their letters, and then you have to add on. Each time you replace the letters you used with new ones so that you always have seven." Connor thinks he has covered it until he realizes he neglected to answer Arnold's original question. "No made up words, but Kevin's like a talking dictionary and will be able to verify the integrity of a word nearly 87% of the time."

Speak of the devil, although he would probably break the no violence rule to punch you if you ever referred to him as such, Kevin enters the room. Hair damp and face red from the shower. He is in his pajama attire and his teeth are fuzz free. He feels brand new, and thinks that maybe two years won't be half bad at this new rate. Subconsciously his eyes slide over to Connor, who meets his gaze. There is a slight smile exchanged between the two and Kevin pads over to the game board.

"Alright, so can I go first or what?" Sure, Kevin had promised to alter his somewhat officious personality, but all good things take time. Right? Besides, it's only fair that after all this trauma that he is allowed some compensation, even if it's spelling out "Pelt" on a beat up Scrabble board.

"Kevin, Arnold gets to go first. His name starts with 'A.'" The reproachful tone did not correlate with Connor's grin. Arnold held his hand out for a high five, and for once it was not rejected. He found he could get used to that.

The game began, and Arnold had put down "Wumbo." Kevin responded accordingly, and was shocked to find Connor defending Arnold's choice of words and that Spongebob references were just fine. Kevin of course gave Connor a face that clearly meant, "_You better tell me just what the heck a spongebob is._" Only to have an expression that read, "_Seriously? Have you been living under a rock all this time, or was your childhood just that bad?_" thrown back at him.

This leads to Kevin flicking one of Connor's tiles. It was a 'K.' Arnold stares and wonders if they think their flirting is subtle. He clears his throat.

"Kevin, don't be a Squidward and leave Connor alone." Of course Connor, who understands the reference, begins to laugh, holding a hand out to high five Arnold again. This double team "pick on the pop culturally deprived" lead to what Kevin would definitely NOT call a pout. Connor thinks he could just pinch each of his cheeks, which leads him down a different line of thinking entirely. He blushes and begins to think of a word.

Eventually he comes up with the word 'map,' griping about how he had awful letters. Kevin laughs and thinks that maybe karma meant something after all.

And so this cycle repeats in several variations. Until Kevin, deeply absorbed in trying (and failing) to beat Arnold, who was utilizing his quick thinking to accumulate maximum points with minimal effort (in short he kicked ass, not that any of them would say that aloud exactly like that), placed on the board a word worth triple the amount.

K-I-S-S

He cheered and pointed at Arnold who responded with equal defensive enthusiasm. They were equal now, and for the time being Arnold was just a bit better, even if it was only in the field of rainy day or stuck-in-Uganda-with-nothing-to-do board games. He hadn't noticed Connor's silence, and soon his voice lowered as well. _Had he really just done that? _Kevin felt like slapping himself. Now all he would be thinking about was Connor and that stupid word that was worth like what? 24 points? That left Arnold with 20 ahead of him instead of 44, which was not worth it in the least. Arnold noticed the staring contest and fidgeting. He figured it was time to go. Quickly.

"Well, since you both need to work on your word wizardry and I'm the winner of the universe how about you clean up and I go and shower the film of sweat I have." True to character Arnold did not hold back the detail that caused both boys to cringe, nor did he understand why they did so.

"Sure thing buddy, next time you'll be the one cleaning up." Kevin pointed and followed Arnold's retreating frame with his finger. No, not the middle one you heathen.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Price," were the victor's departing words. Connor laughs at Kevin's grimace.

Let's say you were in a room. It was average sized and decent looking, of course it could always be better. There is plenty of space for plenty of people in the room until an elephant appears. It does not walk in, although elephants tend to lumber like the giant blunderbusses they are. No, it's more like you blinked and suddenly your mediocre room was three fourths elephant instead of empty space. No one mentions it, after all what if the elephant wasn't there? What if you were crazy or someone pumped the room with a new gas version of LSD and soon the lamp your sitting next to starts belting out Nirvana's "Heart Shaped Box?" So instead slight, furtive glances are tossed in Dumbo's direction, but not a single person indicates they know the poor pachyderm even exists.

Kevin and Connor were both studiously ignoring the elephant whose name was K-I-S-S, and this was a smaller than average room. Benign conversation occurred instead.

"Don't be a sore loser, it's not a good look for you," Connor pushed Kevin lightly and turned his attention to gather the tiles.

"Yeah, well if you had just let me go first I wouldn't be stuck here cleaning shop." He begins to pick up the tiles as well, only to flush at how ridiculous that last sentence was. _What kind of analogy was that? One from the forties? _Kevin nearly cringes and resists the urge to alphabetize the pieces. Or place them back down only to pick them up in a more "efficient" fashion.

"Really, because if you had done 'pretty' before all of us it still would have been only eleven points anyhow. No special bonus for you, see," Connor takes the liberty of clearing the board and spelling out the word. He thinks he's proved his point quite nicely, but he wasn't that shocked at Kevin's dismissal.

"Not my fault, and besides," _why not have a little fun_, "I was a tad distracted by someone," the emphasis caused Connor to roll his eyes, "who rendered me incapable of thinking of any other word." Kevin commends himself and his excellence at Connor's short circuit response and rather cherry face. This time the heat had no part in it's coloring. He liked this new game.

Connor caught on, albeit it took his supreme logic brain a minute to register that Kevin Freaking Price was attempting to flirt. With him. In the mission center. With Arnold a room away and Elder Thomas just wandering around (most likely asleep somewhere). Connor was never one for giving up, or backing down, in regards to a game. The rest of the time his spine was on constant holiday. He found himself choosing his words very carefully. After all he knew for a fact he had more experience than Kevin, which was saying something.

"Come on, you know it's because you were too hot to think straight," he added an after thought for good measure, "The game was much too long for you and your newly alcoholic mind." Connor acted for years of his life, making perfectly normally conversation sound like innuendo with slight syllabic alterations was nothing.

Kevin froze. He hadn't expected Connor to respond, with phrasing like that. He had no idea how to "flirt." Kevin barely counted what he had said before as flirting due to it's obvious and pure nature. He gulped and inched a tad closer to Connor who smirked, his hands collecting a 'q, s, 2 as, and the w.' Kevin wondered what those fingers would feel like wrapped around something else. He cursed himself for allowing the red head (although today it was more brown in hue) to get to him. He had his pride.

"No, I don't think so. It must have been your poor choice of words that threw me off. If we're being so honest I'd go so far as to say they were chosen by someone a bit thick." Kevin thought he had gotten one up on the other until he started laughing.

"You," _he can't be that naive, can he?_ "You suck at this," Connor has to pause to laugh once more. Kevin was doing his "I-swear-to-Heavenly-Father-if-you-call-this-a-pout" face that was so painfully a pout that Connor had to laugh some more. The sound booming. If Kevin wasn't so pissed he would have felt proud he managed that with minimal effort.

"I thought I was doing well. You blushed that first time." Kevin knew he had-

"Because it was sweet, not 'hot,'"_ no Price, the actual air quote gesture Connor made was not cute. Shut up_. "You didn't change your voice." Okay, so he didn't have Connor. Kevin still thought maybe-

"Not to mention your attempt at flirtation turned into a round about compliment to me." If Connor allowed him to simply gather his thou-

"Have you ever even-" Connor never gets to finish. Kevin, in what he will call a fit of blind fury if ever asked, has tackled Connor to the floor. This caused several Scrabble pieces to spray outward, and a few of the letters in the newly arranged "pretty" to dig into Connor's back.

"If you would give me a chance to think uninterrupted then maybe I could do a better job of 'heating' you up." Kevin was all for dramatics, he just didn't realize this time it would end up somewhat back firing on him too. Go figure.

Connor gulped. He wasn't Mr. Chuckles now. In fact he was barely breathing, let alone laughing. He licked his lips, Kevin's tone rather drying.

Kevin watched Connor's tongue dart out and lap his upper lip. His pupils absorbed the brown of his eyes, and Connor noted this. He wondered if his eyes were the same. They were.

This kiss was much different than last time.

For one Kevin was competitive. This time he was out to prove something. He didn't like losing, or being considered inferior. Perhaps he just wasn't used to it, all things considered, or it was simply his anal retentive nature (pun subconsciously intended, he told his hidden brain to go the heck away). Connor had a penchant for never backing down, at least when it was something he believed in. And he absolutely believed in Kevin.

It was rough. Someone might have cringed had they seen the collision and heard the moan that followed. Kevin was never admitting it was him. Ever. Connor nipped at Kevin's lips. Drawing the soft flesh in between his teeth and tugging slightly in a way that had Kevin's lower stomach churn. He never would have thought he would find biting something that got him so riled up. Then again, it was probably just Connor. With his equal determination to match each shift Kevin made and eyes blown into pools of Indian ink. It seemed Kevin's hands always found their way into the soft hair, and he decided fair's fair and gave a small tug.

Connor groaned at the slight pull to his head. He also moved from Kevin's mouth to his neck. He began working on the expanse of skin, suckling like a starved infant given a bottle. He needed to flip Kevin in order for this to work.

Kevin barely noticed the position change. All he could acknowledge was Connor. The other was currently working on making his neck looked like it was pelted by rocks. His tongue was stroking over each bite, soothing the heated skin. It felt marvelous and soon Kevin began to rake his fingers to the base of Connor's head. A moan, much louder than before, emanates from his mouth. He was losing control, fast.

Connor was slowly slipping down Kevin's body, his hands stroking his chest and face. He wanted to go further. By Heavenly Father he wanted to go further, but he knew what would happen if he tried. Kevin would freak out (again) and this time probably do something even worse than last time. Not to mention he couldn't exactly suck Kevin off in the middle of the center room at 7 pm. As hot as that would be, Connor's only thought being, "You kinky voyeuristic bastard." He shrugs with acceptance, and pulls Kevin's ear with his teeth causing the panting man to stutter. He breathes, his voice heavy, taking a moment to relish Kevin's petting of his hair.

"Let's continue this during our usual time," with that he stands, straightens his shirt, and leaves the room. Kevin is left amongst scattered letters wondering if it would seem strange to wear a scarf during a Ugandan summer. His breath still coming short.

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**References: **

**I hope you know who Spongebob is.  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**Note: I'm not dead, wooh! So super sorry about the wait. The really, really long wait. I have a detailed explanation after the chapter as to why I suck and this took so long. Among other things. This chapter is a tad different than the others I think, so do tell if you found that irritating or you didn't mind the change. If you found something a bit off please let me know, I am a tad rusty with their voices. Likewise if you liked something let me know so I can continue doing that. Disclaimer: I profit from nothing, so please don't sue me for making a story about two gay Mormons from a musical. **_  
_

* * *

_Let's continue this our usual time. _

Kevin was lying in bed. Staring at a ceiling that was more shadow than plaster. It was nothing really. Nope. He's had plenty of people promise him stuff. His dad promising to show up to one of his award ceremonies, even when the reserved seat remained empty next his mom, the woman clapping with a 120 watt smile rimmed in red lipstick. His older brother promising not to smoke anymore when Kevin caught him that one time behind the gas station with a pack of Camels, only to be punished with extra hours of silent reflection a week later when their dad found Gabe's stash in an altered Book of Mormon. Heck even friends at school promised it would be the last time they borrowed homework answers, or that they would hang out next weekend, really they would. A promise is nothing.

Yet hearing that come from Connor, Kevin was filled with something he didn't know he had lost. It was effervescent and light, swirling around in his chest and floating up to his eyes and face. He may have been staring at a darkened ceiling, but there was a slight smile in place of his usual worried line. This promise. This continuation was going to happen. Connor wouldn't forget. He just wouldn't.

Kevin glances to his left, Arnold's bed is practically vibrating from the man's snores. He catches the red light of the clock radio from the late 1970s (it only gets 3 channels comprised of varying crackled voices, the rest completely static). The time read two-thirty-seven. Ante meridiem. Not too bad. Really if he went to bed in the next half hour he would get maybe two hours of sleep. Kevin wondered if maybe he should just go out and wait on the couch for those two hours. _For the love of Heavenly Father you are pathetic, really Price? The couch? What are you his beck and call boy? _Kevin frowned at his conscious, that had a voice similar to his father's, and man did that cause some concern deep down. This is not what Kevin felt like dealing with right now.

So he doesn't.

Compartmentalizing is a glorious thing, and so all those feelings labeled _Dad_ and _Pathetic, Overeager Loser _are packed up and shoved into a garage that is becoming increasingly cluttered. Sighing Kevin glances at the clock again. Surely this inner battled has taken up some time. 2:39am. Or two minutes. That's good too. Running a hand through his hair Kevin rises and creeps quietly past Arnold's bed. Sticking his head out into the hall he notes the silence of the center. It was drowning him in invisible waves, battering his senses with the overwhelming ocean of nothingness. The walls were blank, the floors were cold, even their rooms were personalized sparsely, if at all. Sliding through the thickness of the empty building he comes to the main room and sees the couch. It practically screams. Ghostly susurrations of Connor's voice and laughter penetrating the silent air. Phantom movements crush cushions as two bodies hold one another are seen only by Kevin's eyes.

Walking over to the couch he settles into the noise only he can hear, allowing the sounds to solidify the promise. His eyes close, if only for a moment.

* * *

"Kevin," Connor shakes his shoulder, "Wake up, or at least move over." Connor smiles when the other bolts up right, his usually immaculate hair tangled roots. "How long have been out here? It's 5:15." Kevin sighs and rubs the haze of dreams out of his eyes, Connor finds that image rather adorable for a nineteen year old man.

"Since 2:39, I hadn't meant to fall asleep," Connor sees the cringe in Kevin, even if the other feigns nonchalance. He wonders why the other is embarrassed, and then recalls what he had said after the Scrabble game. His realization must have been fairly transparent because Kevin's face began to shade itself scarlet.

"You know if I had known you would have been so eager I would have acted much sooner." That's a lie, but the words are effective. Connor can see Kevin shift, and leans closer so that he is only a few centimeters from the other's face. _Wow Connor, you sure know how to keep a situation in control. Bravo. _The sarcasm was promptly ignored so that the only response was a mental pat on the back and cheeky _I know_. He could feel the feathers from Kevin's breath spread over his face. They were hot and left a slight tingle in his skin. An electric charge taking the place of his blood, overflowing from his veins and back into the air they both inhaled.

No one knows who broke first, but soon they were kissing. Soft lips meeting slightly chapped ones, breathing each other in.

Kevin was like the atmosphere during a summer storm. Full of lightning and echoing with thunder. Connor could feel the energy ready to burst from the other boy. The same energy that made the Kevin's hands pull at his terra cotta hair and bite his lower lip hard enough to taste liquid iron. Connor felt like he was short circuiting in the heated tempest of the other.

Kevin felt overwhelmed. Connor had set his synapses on fire and he felt as if every cell was filling up with embers and flames. Burning away into something new. Something that groaned when his neck was licked at by a mouth that should have been cooling like water but proved only to be gasoline. When the inferno became too much Kevin shut his eyes and tried to freeze, but he was too far gone. His brain was too focused on what Connor's mouth was doing to his collar bone to think about why it should help him retreat. He thought that Connor would stop soon anyway, and then they could go back to something that didn't turn him into ash.

Except that Connor wasn't stopping.

The moans causing Kevin's chest to shudder whipped the fox haired boy into a sort of urgent frenzy. Pausing from his neck fixation Connor nips behind Kevin's ear, if only to hear the hitch it causes in the other's breathing, before slowly grinding his hips down. He stills for a moment, eyes fluttering slightly at the sound from Kevin, before continuing. Soon he feels Kevin begin to meet his thrusts with equal fervor.

Fisting the couch is the only thing reminding Kevin that he cannot in fact be as loud as he would like. He settles for a small, "Oh," before returning to the groaning and stuttered breathing. This was new. Very new. He wasn't sure he could take it, or if he wanted to. The hardness that met his own was in equal parts terrifying and a sensation he can only describe as a mix between exhilarating and maddening. He hadn't even realized his own gyrations until Connor sped up, causing him to feel as though he was free falling through the depths of Hell and ascending to the gated entrance of Heaven all at once.

It was too much.

"Stop, please can we stop," Connor almost cried upon hearing the almost silent utterance. He could feel himself so close to completion. He wanted to yell, to grow frustrated and angry at Kevin's sudden need to blue ball him. Instead he opened his eyes, eyes he hadn't even realized were closed, and looked at Kevin. He really looked at him. Past the eyes screwed up so tight he looked hurt. Past the feverish skin and tousled umber hair. What he saw made him stop cold and feel nothing but a twinge of sadness.

Kevin was so broken for someone so put together.

He hadn't had a single kiss up until a few days ago, and he seemed to have a shadow in the shape of his father stitched in the place of where his should be. No had bothered touching Kevin, and that just wasn't something Connor could fathom. He wondered if Kevin could count the number of hugs he has received on one hand. Two? Suddenly he felt guilty for thrusting (both literally and figuratively) so much physical contact laced with emotions he knew Kevin could hardly process in this time span.

"Yeah, yeah," Kevin flushed, even more so if he thought that was possible, and opened his eyes despite not wanting to. Chestnuts drowning in the churning cerulean of Connor's constantly shifting sea. He could sense the shame at being unable to satisfy Connor's obvious need starting to show, he looked away from the searching gaze in an effort to hide it.

"I'm sorry, I-" his muttering was cut off by a gentle but firm response.

"No, no I'm sorry. I should have taken it slower like I promised. It's fine," Connor gave Kevin a smile and that was enough to make the spring that had formed in his demeanor uncoil. He moved over and Connor sandwiched himself between the back of the couch and Kevin himself. Curling around the other like blanket made of reassurance. Kevin felt a small peck on the nape of his neck. He felt himself melt into it.

Saying nothing Kevin reflects on how he is going to go from here. Certainly, while it almost made him implode, what they had been doing felt very, very, _very _good. He wondered if being only attracted to one person who just so happened to be a guy made him gay, because he was pretty sure that if Connor were a girl he would still like kissing him. Or vice versa. Or if they were both girls. It's not a sin if they don't have sex, right? _It's not a sin if you don't kill someone, just maim them horribly, right?_ He yawns, and feels Connor's arm tighten around him. He smiles, thinking about how yes. They did continue "this" at their usual time. Kevin pushes a new box for the garage aside, tightly packed, with the label _Is it really a sin?, _ready to let if turn to dust. If he was already falling at least he had Connor's hand to hold while he passed through clouds and earth into the Earth's core. Waiting until he was sure Connor had drifted Kevin whispers.

"Thank you."

* * *

In a city named after a lake with water you really wouldn't want to drink without purifying first a man rises with his alarm. His wife, her hair a short faded swirl of blonde wheat, stirs slightly in her sleep. She knows where he's going for the next few days, and doesn't feel the need to rise. Dressing into new undergarments, a dress shirt, black slacks, and a tie the shade of a robin's egg the man then goes into a bathroom to shave away all evidence of stubble except for the grey mustache which he grooms. Pulling on a suit jacket that matches his gun metal hair the man grabs his suitcase and heads out the door to the airport. His colleagues would meet him there to board the plane together.

His flight was to Uganda, where a bus would take him to the Mission Center for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. He would arrive in 18 hours.

He was the Mission President.

* * *

**Note: **

**Not a lot, I know, but I haven't updated in _months _and I had such a block with this story. I needed to put something out there to get the ball rolling again, and because of that it may not be the best chapter. In case you couldn't tell some shit is going to go down. Soon.  
**

**I made Connor more dominant because I feel like you would totally have more experience with the whole physical thing when it came to people. Kevin would have no idea what to do, thus leaving him to ride it out. I know a lot of people make Kevin super dominant and act like he knows what he's doing, but I mean he's virgin. And Connor is too, but in this timeline he's had at least a freaking orgasm. So that's my defense for why Kevin is not like viciously grinding into a whimpering Connor (yes, that is an example of what I have read...just...why).  
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**I'm going to try to update without a 4 month hiatus, or even a month of waiting. I felt so bad for not getting this out sooner, so thank you guys for not leaving the story and whatnot. It was my main drive to get this out, even if it isn't much compared to the other chapters. I promise you though that the next one will have much going on, and thus be pretty long.  
**


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